


Dark Embrace

by blackwingsinthecold



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Assassin & FBI AU, Assassin!Erik, FBI!Charles, Implied/Referenced Past Torture, M/M, MCU Integration, Modern Setting, Powered AU, Sexual Situations, Slow Burn, Some canon characters are depowered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:10:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 115,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwingsinthecold/pseuds/blackwingsinthecold
Summary: Mutants are rare and far between. Enough so that much of humanity believes they don't exist, despite numerous reports throughout the centuries.  All that is about to change.Charles Xavier used to be a criminal psychologist for the FBI and now he's changed his career path to detective. Thanks to him, the crime rate in New York City has dropped over thirty percent. In large part due to Charles's telepathic abilities that only a handful of people at the bureau know about.Everything seems to spiral when a mysterious assassin touches down in the city and Charles can't get a read on him like everyone else.  At the same time, the loft next to Charles's finally gets a new occupant after two years that provides a certain level of...distraction.





	1. The Chase

  
    This was another day for Charles Xavier to be wasting his partner's time. The younger male wasted no time in yawning and settling himself in the passenger seat of a black Monte Carlo to a slouch. This was the fourth night they were doing some kind of overtime stakeout and despite the extra hours racked up on the paycheck, Alex Summers was not impressed by his partners' obsession with believing there was organized crime syndicate or his worse assumption an "Assassins" Guild in place. 

    Why would he? Especially since he had cleaned up the streets and lowered the murder ratio by nearly thirty percent. While he was leaning forward, eager in his seat watching the silent apartment complex, Alex was starting to snooze. He looked over at the other male briefly, working to tune out the younger male's dream of venturing into a house made of pizza from his mind. He had to smile despite himself, only because there was a cheerful tenor to Alex's thoughts. Charles felt bad for him.

  Alex was still in his twenties...sporting blonde hair that he had spiked in the front( in slight disarray right now of course ).  Still very young. Not that Charles wasn't...but Alex was considered a rookie. It was compliment to his skill that he was partnered with one of the best. 

  And here he was, dragged out of bed past midnight because his partner was probably being paranoid.

    Three previous nights majorly spent in a car seat was doing wonders for his back. 

   Charles however, had about two hours of sleep under his belt. He had been obsessing over this case, as Alex might put it, for an extreme amount of time. There was an entire wall in his study room for this case...and he wasn't about to let the new serial killer in the city slip away now when he was close. So close. 

  The car was situated between two seemingly abandoned buildings. An eyewitness said they saw two people dressed in all black wearing masks enter this area about a week ago with no one coming out. Alex had immediately surmised that it was probably some kind of underground dance club or that the people heading inside were the band themselves.  But Charles was not so quick to make assumptions. 

  He couldn’t afford it. Not with his gifts. 

   And then it happened. The doors to the dark building opened and two figures came out, wearing black masks covering the lower half of their faces. One was a male, tall and lean musculature build. The other was a woman about a head shorter than the male. She had long curly hair that shone blonde as she passed under the light. Charles only caught a glimpse of them under a dim lamp post before they spotted the FBI vehicle and the two detectives. Here they were, thinking they were so subtle and deep under cover too. 

    "Alex! Call for backup to the liberty building on 5th! Do it now!"  

   He didn't wait for an answer from his partner, darting out of the car after the two. They started running too as soon as they saw him approach. His heart pumped faster than ever, but he didn't waste time every morning running five miles for nothing. He was closing in on them within minutes, the one with slightly lighter hair lagging just a little behind his friend.     

   "Stop! I order you to-" 

   The order was completely ignored, of course. A stack of thick newspapers was kicked down to impede the chase. Charles dug towards his belt for the gun He mumbled under his breath and aimed a precise shot, closing one eye behind the stack as he hit the assailant's leg. It wasn't meant to kill, it wasn't even meant to injure  _that_  much. In fact, the way Charles aimed his gun, the bullet simply grazed her thigh. It did the job, and the suspect was down, her hand over the torn wound.  

    _God…damn it….He’s going to kill me…He’s going to kill me for this…_

   Her self-depreciating thought was loud in Charles’s ears. 

   Charles darted over  less than a minute later to assess the damage. More focused on her pain, the suspect probably didn't even notice Charles before the Detective knelt down and turned her leg over and stared at the blood that was spotting the ground. He pulled out his white dress shirt from beneath his coat and tore off a long strip to tie and bandage around it. The woman gave a small wince.   

   "Are you all right?" 

   The question didn't even get an answer. The suspect just stared at him with wide, light blue eyes, even a tiny shake of her head like he didn't quite understand what Charles was doing. Like she had never been field dressed before. 

    "I'm going to call an ambulance. You're going to be all right. Just stay right here and we'll-" 

    Biggest mistake in the book was just forgetting about the partner who had come back, shot out a window.  

  “ Don’t forget _me_.” 

     The man’s voice startled Charles. He ducked down and covered the wounded suspect with his coat as glass rained down on them. Then he got up from his position and gave chase once again, following him down another alley, and turning right on another which was completely pitch black. 

 The darkness unnerved him. He could be anywhere. Charles tried to stretch out and feel his thoughts, but he was almost shocked to find nothing. Had he really lost him so fast? Even if he had…he should still be able to feel his mind growing more and more distant. But again…he felt _nothing._  

    "....Where are you?"

     His pistol was held high, he cocked it back just in case of that voice again. 

  The silence seemed to grow deafening and then something miraculous started to happen, his hand started to tremble on its own. He tried his hardest to work his hand to clench the pistol tighter to him. But it was like there was some unusual pull that was wrenching it away from him. Whatever it was, seemed to humor his attempt to fight back before the pull became too strong and the pistol was yanked away. He saw its gleam before it was completely absolved in the shadows. 

  From the darkness, he emerged. The second assailant…the one who had dropped glass on him and the reason he may have been sporting a few cuts on his face from it. He could barely make out his face. The only light was coming from behind Charles where he had left the mans partner. 

  Again, it confounded him that he could not read this man in the slightest. So many times he had done this before…and he had never met someone who was able to block out psychic invasion. It seemed impossible that the assailant was simply thinking of nothing at all. 

  “You’re….You’re a….,” The words almost seemed to die in Charles’s throat. He couldn’t finish the sentence because the other man was growing closer and closer to him, until finally, he had Charles backed against a brick wall behind him. His hands came up to flatten on either side of Charles’s shoulders, effectively caging him there.

   “…Tell me…,” The man’s voice was very muffled behind that mask. He could see a faint shine to his eyes in the darkness. 

  “Why did you save her?” 

  It was such a strange question that it kind of threw Charles off. His panic subsided for a moment and he was left staring at the man in the shadows as though he had asked him to solve a particularly difficult math equation. 

  “…She was **hurt**.” 

  The simple statement made the man in the shadows draw his head back just a few inches like he was evaluating Charles. 

  Charles meanwhile took the distraction to raise his hands towards the mask, but the other man caught him, hands closing in around his wrists to halt his movement.

  The detective still tried to squint to get a discernible feature through the darkness. Yet Charles knew what he was doing. He had been deprived of his ability to fully see the other man...yet he had the feeling the suspect could see him perfectly, and he was taking in his features. The sharp, bright blue eyes...the dark locks that had grown slightly longer than necessary, parted in the front.  Despite the lack of sight, he could have sworn the other man had drawn even closer in this...embrace.

  Slowly, Charles lowered his hands. A second later, and there was the sound of sirens behind him and he looked over his shoulder towards the noise. 

  The other man released him and took a few steps back. 

  “You’re playing a dangerous game.” 

  Charles merely shook his head, trying to squint through the darkness. But the other man’s footsteps began to fade. 

  “I’ll be seeing you again, _Detective_.”

 


	2. The Neighbor

The drive back to the mansion was mostly silent. The assassin’s partner was trying to poke at the field dressing that the detective had made for her. He had to admit, it was actually pretty good. It wasn’t helping that she was trying to remove it so quickly. Annoyed, he grabbed a hold of her wrist and placed it back on her lap.

“Leave it until we get there,”

She scowled at him, then settled back in her seat with her arms crossed, staring out the window. It wasn’t long before they were pulling the black jeep up to a huge mansion with a circular driveway. With over fifty windows facing them and the pristine brick layout, it looked more like a school than a place where someone lived.

The assassin helped his partner out of the car, taking a hold of her hand despite her desire to wrench away from him.

“Raven,” He muttered irritably.

“I don’t need your help. I can walk just fine. It just grazed me. He missed,” said Raven.

“ I know it did…and he _didn’t_ miss,” The assassin responded before consenting to release her hand and let her lag behind as he headed up the steps.

He walked past the grand entrance hall and going straight up to the second floor where a long hallway waited for them with a door on the other end. Ideally, it would have been to a master bedroom( with a manor like this, there was definitely more than one master sized room ) but the owner had changed it to an office. And he was no doubting wide awake and waiting for them.

Before opening the door, the assassin pulled off the mask that shielded the lower half of his face. For the interaction with the agent, he had chosen not to don the hood. Still, he was confident that the agent couldn’t see him clearly in the darkness. He held up a finger to his partner, one hand stilled on the doorknob.

“Before we go in…,”

“Don’t tell me we’re going to try to make up a story on the spot, Erik,” said Raven exasperatedly.

“We’re not. What I was going to say was that I want you to let me do the talking,” said Erik.

“Why?”

His voice lowered and he leaned down towards her. “….Because if any fault is laid out, you want _me_ to be the one to get blamed. Not yourself.”

“But I-“

“Let me do the talking,” He spoke over her and at the same time, the doorknob was turned and he slid inside with her lagging behind him.

It certainly was a lavish office with various antiques from all over the world. When Erik had first entered the place with its strange Egyptian gold pieces and African tribe items, he thought the man was simply a collector. He later realized that these were items he was personally there to collect from these separate nations.

Because Sebastian Shaw’s actual age was a mystery. He had not aged for centuries.

He had his back to the two assassins when they walked in, fully dressed in a white suit with his hands behind his back. Beside him on the edge of desk there sat a police radio which he was tuned in whenever any of his people were out.

Which is how Erik knew he would be awake. No doubt he heard the agent’s call for backup when he was in pursuit of them. After hearing the location given, Shaw would have no choice but to believe it was them.

His head tilted just the slightest to the right when they walked in.

“Sounds to me like you two had a very…very eventful night going for you.”

Before Erik could speak, Raven decided to the defiant thing and cut in. “It was me, sir. I was careless. We tried to run…the agent started to pursue and I took a hit.”

She didn’t have to point it out, with the way she had been standing, leaning heavily on the side where the injury was.

Shaw didn’t even turn to look for himself, just gave a small smirk while Erik glared at her.

“For your sake, I hope he didn’t get a good look at your face,”

“She was-“ Erik began.

“He did,” said Raven firmly. “He came over…field dressed the wound.”

Erik clenched his jaw for a moment and braced himself for the reaction as very slowly, Shaw turned around to face them.

“Erik? Where were you?”

It was an opportunity to lie, cover Raven completely and save her from punishment. He could easily say he did kill the agent pursuing them and make the mental note to do it at a later time.

But there was another way to save Raven. He knew how to appeal to Shaw. Much better than Raven did.

“There’s a more _pressing_ issue,” said Erik quietly, stepping forward, his hands interlocking behind his back.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

Erik hesitated for a beat. “…The detective that pursued us is a telepath.”

Immediately, Shaw’s amused expression went blank. “…What?”

“What???” Raven repeated, limping slightly towards Erik to grip his shoulder and turn him a little towards herself. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“It was more… **pertinent** that I tell Shaw directly.” Erik answered.

“A telepath…,” Shaw mused. “…How can you be sure?”

“He was trying to get inside my head nearly the entire time,” said Erik with a shrug.

Shaw sat back down, leaning back in his chair slightly. He placed his finger over his lower lip and traced it in thought. “…So there’s a telepath in the bureau. A mutant. That’s interesting…that’s very interesting. This could be big, you two.”

Any anger he may have held for Raven had dissolved…or at least it had somewhat. Erik felt a pang of guilt as he remembered that Charles had purposely missed fatally shooting Raven…and that he had stopped to field dress to keep her from bleeding. It wasn’t normal cop behavior. He could have arrested her too, but he had chosen to keep pursuing Erik instead. It was a **compassionate** act…but it was also careless. He should have stayed behind, arrested Raven and brought her in.

Or maybe he was a creature of intuition and he thought Erik was the bigger catch.

“Shaw, we don’t have any way to combat a telepath,”

Shaw shook his head and kept his eyes trained on Erik. “On the contrary…We do….Raven…why don’t you speak to Hank? He should be able to patch you up properly.”

Raven paused to look at the two of them, looking slightly put out before she limped out. Erik winced when she winced, leaning heavily on the door before leaving them alone. Shaw didn’t speak until he heard the door close.

He stood up and slid around the desk to face Erik fully.

“I’m assigning you on this one. Alone,” said Shaw, crossing his arms while Erik frowned. “You’re the only one of us that can resist a psychic attack…and right now we need to proceed cautiously. I want you to get close to him. Undercover. Now that he’s gotten close…too close…we need to know what he knows and we need to put a stop to his investigation. _By any means necessary._ ”

Erik slid his tongue over his teeth, giving a humorless smile. “I think that’s a little obvious, Shaw. He couldn’t read me then…what makes you think he won’t make the connection between the assassin and whatever persona I’m dawning?”

“You have to open your mind a little, Erik,” said Shaw, speaking louder as Erik opened his mouth to protest. “…I know the task has proven vexing in the past, but this is a serious problem. And you’re the only one who can do it.”

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know how long it took for me to close my mind…Especially after Emma went rogue…”

Shaw had gone significantly quiet…and it was clear the subject of the telepath that they mutually worked with was still somewhat of a sour subject.

“I know…but we’re low on options, Erik. This is a threat,”

“He’s a good man,” Erik countered. “ He saved Raven. He didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re right,” Shaw murmured, frowning a bit. Erik and he both knew that as a rule, this organization did not target people of law enforcement because it brought too much attention. That’s not to say there weren’t people within the police force or the bureau that deserved attention…but it was still a strict rule to abide by.

“Well then do what you can to halt his investigation. I’ll also run the situation by Hank…see what he can uncover on him. We might be able to hack into the security cameras to ID him…get a folder for you so you know what you’re dealing with. “

Erik gave a curt nod, stifling the reflexive sigh at the predicament they were in.

______

The next few weeks for Charles were almost a complete waste of time. There were no incidents. Only a few drops of blood were recovered from the crime scene and taken to the labs from the female suspects gunshot wound. However, there was no match in the system to it. Charles had been hoping it would bring something. Anything.

And that proved to be a great disappointment. He was sitting in his office by himself, ignoring the sounds of easy laughter occurring on the other side of the door. Instead, he was focused fully on the screen of his computer, clicking through various pictures. There had been seven murders in the last two months. None of the victims showed any correlation in the way they were done except that there was no suspect evidence on any crime site. In fact, for all intents and purposes, the murders looked like suicides and that’s actually what they were ruled as.

Captain Stryker was a very simple mind. If he couldn’t see hard evidence, he didn’t buy into it. He had been trying to get Charles to dismiss these cases for a long time, and he gave him the biggest eyeroll ever when Charles brought up the chase in the alley. Alex believed they were probably part of some underground band. That would somewhat explain why they were scoping out an abandoned building. His other theory was that they were going to an underground concert. The captain was inclined to buy more into this theory rather than humor anything Charles presented.

Charles was stubborn though…and he was sure that who he encountered in the dark alley was a mutant. He didn’t voice that part…because only Alex really knew about his own mutation. Saying the word mutant right now would have him boxing up all his belongings and taking the final trip away from the station.

The agent was so spaced out in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Alex coming in and taking a seat at the edge of his desk.

Charles kept typing on his computer, inputting more data.

“Alex…if you’re trying to distract me…”

“I’m not. Just wondering what you’re up to,” Alex shrugged. He pat Charles on the shoulder. “Come on Charles, it’s Friday…and your birthday is tomorrow. Maybe you should cheer up a little huh? Relax. Get out here and have some conversation. You know I invited everyone right?”

“Did you?” Charles asked absently.

“Yeah and they want to talk to you. Come on. They wanna know what to expect from there…from you. You know they just want to get to know you,” said Alex imploringly.

“Do they?”

“Are you just going to say things like that all day? Come on, man,” Alex sighed and poked his shoulder. “Have you called Moira at all lately?”

“I’ll call her tonight,” Charles answered.

“Should I invite her to the party? Maybe she’ll be able to liven you up a little,”

“Hmm,”

After a few moments of lingering there, Alex gave up, throwing up his hands and walking out with a shake of his head. It certainly wasn’t his first attempt trying to pry Charles away from this case or anything related to it…and it wouldn’t be the last.

Finally when the clock struck five, people were starting to head home. Several stopped at his office door to wish him a happy birthday which earned a wry smile in return. He finally managed to tear his eyes away from the screen and begin packing up for the day. Everyone was out of the office by the time Charles was done.

His eyes were strained and almost unfocused on the drive home…and he kept feeling like he was missing something…from the crime scenes to the interaction in the alley. Had he really jumped the gun in assuming the person in the alley was responsible for the murders? It could have been a happy coincidence…Still…the place the two suspects were meeting was awfully close to where the last murder had occurred. What if it all was just an awful coincidence?

He took out his phone, debating what Alex said as he drove. He should call Moira. It had been a few days. Charles selected her name and put the phone to his ear. She picked up after four rings.

“Charles,”

Charles heard the shuffling of papers and the clacking away on a keyboard. She was still at work.

“Moira. I was wondering if you got my invitation. Well…Alex sent it out…I’m just…reiterating. Is that the correct word? Are you able to make it?”

“Oh…your invitation…ummmm…Let me check my email…,” She said exasperatedly, sighing as she did. After a moment, the typing stopped and she seemed to adjust her phone, inkling her head so it was pressed into her shoulder while she could keep working.

“Listen…Charles…I…left you a message on your home phone. Have you…not gotten around to hearing it?”

“Yeah…I’ve just been so swamped at the station with this case. Alex was the one who sent out the invitations.”

“Oh…okay…Well…Let me…get back to you. Okay, I’ll call you back, okay?”

Before Charles could answer, his phone gave a soft jingle and he pulled the phone away to see that the call had already been dropped. He frowned deeply before setting the phone down and made his way home.

Again, Charles spaced out and failed to notice that someone had parked in his spot until he was literally close to rear ending them. It was a moving truck. One of those giant ones too. This was illegal. Wasn’t this illegal? His annoyance made him want to arrest the person driving it and all the people that were associated with it…including whoever was moving into his building.

He parked into the guest parking, worked to calm himself as he slid into the elevator and headed up to the fourth floor. There were four lofts on this floor and his was the second one down on the right. He paid more than others due to the added balcony. The one across the hall from him had been empty a long time.

In fact, this was the first time he saw the door open. He peered inside, but all he saw was a lot of boxes. As he drew closer, he could smell fresh paint. Still wanted to arrest whoever was moving in for taking up his parking spot.

 Charles slid inside his own loft and set down his car keys, noticing his answering machine as if for the first time ever. He clicked the button to play his messages and began to undress from his suit, sliding off the jacket and unbuttoning the shirt. The first message was just a reminder that his cake would be ready for pick up at four.

Alex. Why did he give Charles’s number? A surprise party would have been better.

The second message must have been the one Moira was talking about.

“ _….Hey Charles. It’s Moira. I got your texts…and your emails. Sorry I haven’t been able to get back to you. I’ve been actually meaning to talk to you. I know we haven’t spoken in a long time…Most if not all of it is my fault for cutting you off. It was nothing personal…and I’m sorry if you took it personal. I just can’t do this anymore. I know you’ve been wanting to take the next step in our relationship…and for a long time I actually believed I wanted the same thing. But I can’t do that…when I don’t think we ever really had a relationship to begin with. You’re busy doing what you’re doing…and I once joked that I thought you were married to your job. Now that seems to be a very serious reality....Anyway...I'm sorry for talking a bunch on this message...I wanted to get it out there. Believe it or not, with all the tech these days, you're not that easy to get ahold of...I'll see you around."_

Charles was left just staring at the machine. To be truthful, Moira and him seemed doomed before they begun. His telepathy was a concealed aspect of their relationship...yet even then...it seemed like they were just humoring the idea of a relationship just to say they had one.

Even with those thoughts there to provide some measure of comfort, Charles felt a bitter sting. It was not directed at Moira but more to himself. She was right. He was married to his profession. With this particular case going increasingly unsolved, that was more true than ever.

Still, he hoped to see her at the birthday party tomorrow.

The prospect of staying home alone now only worsened his feeling so he donned a light blue t-shirt and jeans and headed right back out the door.

As soon he was outside, his sour mood had him ready to fight whoever moved into his parking spot when he realized the moving truck was gone and all the boxes were now sitting outside in stacks next to a tree on the sidewalk. He barely got a step towards it when he heard a voice to his right.

"Ah...Right. Sorry it's all in the street like this. I'm moving it in now,"

Charles began an apology but stopped short at the sight of him. He was a well built man...a toned body that showed years and years of exercise to keep it that way. His eyes were a nice light shade of blue, gleaming somewhat in the sunlight as he gave Charles a crooked smile showing perfect teeth. Charles's eyes drew downward to give him another quick once over. The simple torn jeans...the white tank top that clung to him from sweat. He also wore a single fingerless black glove on his left hand that extended a somewhat past his wrist. The detective assumed it was from an injury or to make gripping boxes easier, though it was curious that he didn't wear one on his other hand either.

Charles realized he was staring too long and stepped back, a slight flush reaching his cheeks from embarassment.

"No harm, no foul. I just saw the unit next to me was open. You're moving to the fourth floor?"

"Yeah. So you're my neighbor?"

"Yes. I'm Charles," Charles extended his hand and the other man took it, gripping firmly.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Erik."

"Nice to meet you...Are you uh...Are you needing help? That's a lot of boxes to carry up all by yourself," Charles noted.

"I won't say no to a helping hand," said Erik, flashing another smile as he placed a hand on the top most box closest to him. He plucked it off the stack and handed it over to Charles. It was very light. Probably clothes.

Erik himself grabbed two on top of one another and started taking the lead inside, holding the door open for Charles and the elevator following suit.

"Are you new in town?"

"Yeah. It's a big city...kind of overwhelming," Erik laughed. "But they weren't wrong when they said that New York --"

Erik cut himself off as the lift doors closed. Charles gave him another smile but the other's returning expression was friendly, but strained as he faced forward.

It felt wrong seconds after meeting someone to just...invade their mind, but he almost couldn't help it. Maybe later he'd say it was out of his control entirely.

_99 Bottles of beer on the wall...99 bottles of beer. Take one down...pass it around...99 bottles of the beer on the wall._

It was an inner chant to keep his mind off something. **Anxiety.** The man had claustrophobia.

" ---has the best pizza."

The elevator doors opened and Erik seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He didn't bring any attention to the awkward lapse in his sentence and Charles followed suit in doing the same.

"They do...but as a cop...I guess I'm just obligated to enjoy the doughnuts more,"

Erik raised an eyebrow at him as he led him to his empty loft.

"You don't _look_ like a doughnut kind of guy,"

"I'm not," Charles grinned. "But... _Obligated_. I'm more of a coffee and nothing else in the morning."

Erik gave a faint nod as he set the boxes he had down on the nearest stack to the door.

"I guess I know what to order for you if I take you out,"

Charles gave pause to that, flushing somewhat red again as he placed Erik's light box on the counter top. This time he really couldn't blame the heat.

"...Ah...yeah...you do," He muttered awkwardly. "But you know...ahem...You...know. My partner is throwing me a party at my house tomorrow night. More of an **insisted** party. You're more than welcome to come."

Erik tilted his head, hesitating a beat. "...I wouldn't want to intrude."

"It's no intrusion," Charles insisted. "In fact..I might feel better if there's someone...who's not law enforcement there...Well...that's if you're not a cop...Ahh...You're not with law enforcement, are you?"

"No," said Erik, also pausing. There was the slightest amusement to his expression as he answered. "I'm with...pest control."

"Oh you're an exterminator?"

Erik's smile was somewhat tight. " _Something_ like that."

"Okay...Well..we better get a move on before someone steals your things," Charles nodded towards the door. "...In which I'll have to arrest them...and such."

Charles turned the corner and left for the elevator once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This chapter was going to be longer but then the next chapter woulda been short...and you know how that goes. Apologies :) Will update soon ~


	3. Something Broken

Charles may have been in over his head when they continued moving Erik’s things upstairs. He just had to choose the box that was labeled books and insist that he didn’t need help taking it up.  He was so happy when they reached the fourth floor so he could drop the box as close to the door and rub his lower back. His rush gave him a few seconds on Erik who strode inside, holding a less heavy box, an amused expression on his face.

 “I think we can take a break. There’s only four boxes left. May as well have some lemonade,” said Erik.

 “Nonsense,” said Charles dismissively. “I can take four boxes.”

 Before Erik could protest further, Charles was already rushing out the door. The man’s entire body was taking a red tone because of the outside heat and exertion, yet he was being obstinate. Erik took the opportunity to carry off one of the larger, heavier boxes that he had brought up into his bedroom closet where he slid the door closed.

 By the time he was walking back into the living room, Charles was coming back in, staggering under the weight and tipping heavily on either side of himself. Erik moved to get a hand on it and help him towards the counter top where they were set down.

 “I can’t thank you enough for this,” said Erik. “My larger furniture is coming in later, but the movers are bringing that. I promise I won’t ask you for help on that.”

 “Whew,” said Charles, wiping sweat from his forehead and holding onto the edge of the counter top for support while Erik went into the kitchen, unloaded a shopping bag and took out a carton of lemonade out.

 “Oh wait…I don’t have any electricity until tomorrow…No ice,”

 “I have ice,” said Charles promptly. “ I can get some.”

 Charles left him again and Erik took the opportunity to take out his phone and check if he missed anything. There was an encrypted message that was sent out to all active members in the area…A new target had been confirmed. This amusing little exchange with Charles had momentarily _distracted_ him from the objective at hand, and he was quick to let the screen fade to black and pocket it before Charles walked back inside.

 “Got the ice!” Charles was passing over his threshold with a ziplock bag full of cubes and a bag of styrofoam cups in the other. He proceeded to pour them two cups and took a seat on the bare carpet. Erik moved to sit across him.

 “You’re gonna love it when the fan actually turns on,” said Charles, glancing upward at the still ceiling fan. “Speaking of which…Do you work tomorrow?”

  _Yes._

   It was a singular thought that Erik allowed his mind to share with Charles. He knew the other was reading his mind, could feel it on a  _constant_ level. The only way to block him from seeing everything about Erik relied on two things. Erik had to allow his mind to temporarily believe the charade. He had thought up basic aspects of a life and he had to mentally hold to that foundation and immerse himself in it. In short, he had to think like the civilian and his mind would be read like a civilian. The second part was keeping the actual truths he had to keep locked away in a mental barrier around himself only to be perused for microseconds at a time. It was an exercise he mastered with Emma back when she still worked for them...and he was the _only_ one that proved to successfully block her telepathy.

The agent wasn’t trying to actively read Erik, he was just picking up on it as he would anyone…and Erik had no choice, if he wanted to maintain the pretension of normalcy, to give him something.

 “I do,”

 “You know…I can probably give you a spare key to my unit. Just for tonight…for bathroom usage. Or I can call your electric company and threaten them…you know either or…,”

 Truth be told, it was an offer that a normal person probably would have declined, making due with other arrangements like staying with a friend. Considering his primary objective was to uproot Charles’s investigation, this was a prime opportunity.

 “You’re very kind, Charles,” Erik observed.

 Charles smiled. “I think it’s good to be helpful. If only we all did our part and helped each other more…”

 Erik could guess the end of his sentence…that the world would be a better place if that was the case. It was a perspective that Erik considered naive. Not that it wasn’t true, just that it would never be possible.

 Charles downed his glass of lemonade and poured another one. “So…that must be an exciting job. Pest Control. Do you ever get chased off properties by the pets?”

 Erik smirked. “That would be something that occurs more with postal service. It’s not as exciting as it seems. Especially during summer. I’d think being a cop would be more exciting.”

 “FBI, actually,” said Charles. “I suppose it’s exciting. I more or less think of it as…stressful.”

  “Saving lives must be a saving grace,”

  “If I was,” Charles hardly kept the bitter edge from his tone and Erik could see that the case was taking its toll on him. He looked fine outwardly, and he was making it that way but Erik wouldn’t be surprised to find this man rarely slept…and that he was close to crashing.

 “You don’t think you are?”

 “I think I am…,” Charles paused, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he looked away from Erik, the rim of the cup pressed to his lower lip. “… _trying._ It’s not easy to perform a job…any job like this one when the people you work with don’t have faith in you.”

 Erik didn’t have to be a telepath to know that Charles’s mind was going down a dark trajectory of self-depreciation. He was a mutant and the world did not accept mutants. Any display of power to the public would cause outcry. If Charles chose to expose his power in any form to someone he didn’t trust, he put himself at risk for being thrown into a lab for experimentation.

 He realized he was actually feeling remorse for Charles. He had to conceal his gift on a daily basis. He could not get close to anyone, because he could see and hear everything. Erik could relate to some level. He could never form an attachment with anyone...though he always told himself that that was his choice.

 Charles sighed, glancing over at Erik and shaking his head. 

  "Sorry...I know I sound strange. It's complicated."

 “…It’ll get better…Charles. You have faith in yourself. That’s what matters,”

 Charles gave a wry smile. “…I suppose. Thank you.”

 Erik's gaze turned downward as he cleared his throat. ...Was he really trying to make him feel better? It was a soft moment, and he couldn’t afford it. There was a task here…and he shouldn’t have been spending time deviating from it.

 “..I’m sure there are some cases that are exciting. The unsolved ones must be…interesting to say the least. Keeps the thrill alive, doesn’t it?”

  “…I suppose that’s one very…very enthusiastic way of looking at it,”

  “I’m sorry…If you’re not supposed to talk about it,”

  “I’m not supposed to talk about it if you’re involved, no,” said Charles.

  Erik had to suppress a smile at the irony. “…I guess I can understand.”

  Charles sighed, hesitating for a moment. “…It’s a case I’ve been pursuing for a long time. Each time I think I’ve gotten close…I’m left with nothing. Square one. I know that just seems…typical. But it’s frustrating. These crimes…they’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before. No hard evidence…no fingerprints, no signs of forced entry or struggles. Nothing. With all these suspicious aspects, you’d think my department would dedicate all they have to this level of unknown. But they don’t…they don’t care and that’s not right. This person…or persons… need to be stopped.”

  “…Sounds like they’re managing to commit what no other criminal in history could ever really accomplish. The perfect crime,” Erik remarked.

  Charles gave him another humorless smile, raising his knee up and resting his elbow on it as he took the last sip of lemonade. “…I wouldn’t really call the mind of a criminal perfect. There’s always a few fundamental flaws to every criminal. Murder is murder. There’s nothing perfect…nothing beautiful about it. These people…most times they can’t be saved. There’s something inside... something that normally stems from childhood and extends to adulthood. Something inside that’s… **broken.”**

  The words struck Erik harder than they should have. Of course there was absolute truth to them, but coming from the lips of a telepath who could see everyone’s demons…it was hard to intake for a minute.

  Because Erik knew something was wrong with him, knew that what he was doing was far beyond normal…and that what he had been through wasn’t what other people had to go through. He knew when he was ten years old and marked with a number on his arm that this wasn’t usual. There was always a sliver of jealousy for the children his age who could never know a life like his.

  His power was fueled by fury…and his concentration came from pain. It was all he knew. And he knew that if his mind was open…it was all Charles would see.

  And even that hurt.

  Erik forced a smile despite whatever inner turmoil was brewing within.

  Charles continued as if nothing was wrong, mistaking Erik’s silence for curiosity. “…I used to be a criminal psychologist. It was my job to try to understand motive and get into the minds of the people that committed murder. Sometimes that still leaks out. Sorry if that’s a little…odd.”

  It wasn’t odd. Charles was a telepath so that would have made him the best at that particular profession.

  “What made you switch to Detective?”

  Charles gave a small shrug. “I suppose I was tired of trying to figure out why…and was more interested in putting a stop to it.”

  Erik traced his lower lip in some thought.

  “Listen um…I forgot that I have to do some…spot shopping at Target. Missing a few things. Keeps me in an air conditioned environment,” said Erik, placing a hand flat on the ground to help support his stand.

  Charles stood up with him. “Oh. I mean you’re still welcome to my spare key…for the essentials.”

  “You’re very gracious…but…,” Erik trailed off, closing his eyes and literally wanting to smack himself across the face for what he was about to say.  “…I’ll pass. I’ll give the power company a call. Try to get them to come in first thing tomorrow. I can…use the public shower on the top floor. I understand there is one near the pool.”

  “There is…but _public,_ ” said Charles with hard emphasis on the word as if that said enough and required no elaboration.

  Erik chuckled. “I’ll endure.”

  “All right well…I should head out anyway. I have a long nap to take and a back to straighten out.”

  “Yeah…sorry about that,” said Erik, beginning to walk him out, his hand hovered over the small of Charles’s back as if he was ready to support him in case he faltered. “I can get some advil if you need-“

  “No no…I’m good. It was nice to meet you, Erik,” said Charles, stepping out of the loft and stopping at his own door. He turned one last time to extend his hand towards Erik. “....and nice to chat with you. I kind of needed that…outlet after today. Trust me. I hope to see you at the party.”

  Erik took his hand, shaking it politely. “Thanks for your help. I’ll try to make it.”

  “Please do. Again, I need someone who’s not from my department there. Otherwise they’re not going to believe I talk to civilians. At all.”

 _Civilian_. Yeah, that was about right.

  “I’ll try,” Erik repeated before stepping away from Charles towards his own loft.  He was quick to lock the door behind him and retreat into his empty bedroom. The heavy box he had put away in the closet was pulled out once more and opened. The black mask and assassin ensemble that Charles had seen him with the first night was underneath a few leather jackets. He pulled them aside momentarily.

  Encountering the telepath in this form was inevitable. He knew that. This case required subtlety...and Erik had proven to be subtle in different scenarios, this was going to be difficult. He was already feel a strange level of inner conflict regarding the agent, when there shouldn't have been one at all. 

  He shook it off, buried the suit back down in the box and laid down a  white bedsheet in the space where a bed would be, closing his eyes and shutting down for the night.


	4. Speculative Evidence

As Erik expected, he was experiencing extreme back pain when he woke up. He hadn’t had the “luxury” of sleeping on the floor in a long time, getting used to the bed in his quarters at the mansion. Thankfully, he felt cool air blowing from the vent. At least the electricity had been turned on. He reached for his phone resting next to his head and closed one eye to read that he had eight missed calls. All from Hank. There were unread texts as well. 

  [ Text: Hank ] Are you awake? 

  [ Text: Hank ]  I’m coming over. 

  [Text: Hank ]  Whether you’re ready or not.

 Erik just stared at the texts before deciding to roll over and try to get one more hour before the sun was shining in his blindless, curtainless room.

  Luck wasn’t really on his side when there was a loud knock on the door and he tore off the thin sheet on himself to approach the door in a haphazard state.

  Hank was only a few years younger than him but even Erik with all his pride and lack of compliments to anyone considered this guy to be a genius. He was a head shorter than him, looking up at Erik bright blue eyes that showed too much kindness for someone working in this organization. However, Shaw would not have bothered with someone so young if he didn’t believe they were worth it.

  “You slept late,” Hank said, pushing a sports bag to his chest.

  “I was just getting comfortable,” said Erik, stepping aside to let him in. Hank took in the state of the place.

  “We’ll get you some furniture. I already placed an order for it. Everything’s coming in new. You’re going to love the color scheme,”

  “I don’t really care about that,” said Erik, closing the door behind him and stepping towards the younger male. “I’m more concerned with the fact that you’re here. There’s a telepath next door.”

  “Who is at work,” Hank pointed out.

   “Doesn’t matter,” said Erik sharply.

   “Shaw sent me, Erik,” Hank told him. “…He thinks you might need a little help and since the agent already got an eyeful of Raven and her mind, there’s no question that it has to be me.”

  “You’re not exactly easy to hide from a telepath either,” said Erik, tapping his temple with two fingers.

  “And that’s why I brought you a gift.”  said Hank, approaching Erik’s counter and opening up the bag so he could take out a laptop and started hooking up some strange wires.

  “You’re not staying here. This is a two bedroom but I’m going to change that to a game room. I’m serious,” said Erik shrewdly.

  Hank rolled his eyes at him. “I’m not saying I’m staying here. God forbid I had to…No…but I brought you…this.”

  He presented Erik with a small round black object the size of a baseball. Erik turned it over in his hands when he noticed that the other end had a large lens attached to it.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a floating camera that I can operate remotely to move, take pictures and process data.  I call it the HankSpy.”

  To show him, he pulled out a digital remote with a single switch upwards. The camera ball pulled from Erik’s hands and floated level to him, the lens extending behind the glass. Erik glanced at the laptop where the feed was zooming in on his cheek.

  “The HankSpy,” Erik repeated.

  “Well…It’s called a CamSpy…but since you’re going to be talking to me, HankSpy.”

  “I don’t need a sidekick, Hank.”

  “Everyone wants a sidekick,”

  “Not me,”

  “You’ll get used to it,”

   “I’ll smash it with a hammer,” said Erik.

   “I have twenty-three more…so if you’re going to do that, let me know so I can activate the next one,”

  Erik threw up his hands and leaned on the edge of the counter.

  “Isn’t there a range on these kinds of things? How far do I have to be to make this thing break on its own?”

  “Outside of the city,” said Hank casually.

  Erik sighed. “Fine. Whatever. I hope it has a self-destruct sequence.”

  “It does!” said Hank excitedly.  He began to dig more into the sports bag and then lifted a thick black device out and handed it to Erik. He instantly recognized it as the same type of police scanner that Shaw had on his desk.

“I don’t have to tell you what this does, I think. Turn it on and you can hear-“

  “ The police. I get the concept,” Erik was eager to get him out on the off chance that Charles returned home earlier for the party later.

  “There’s one more thing,” said Hank, sticking a hand down the bag again and digging deep this time. He drew out a small black box that looked an awful lot like a ring box.

  “I swear if you’re about to propose to me…,”

  “No…,” Hank opened it and presented Erik with an ear piece. “This is so you can hear me in your head at all times. I have to be at my computer or phone…which I usually am.”

  “This still sounds like a proposal.”

  “I’ll be at a hotel nearby,” said Hank, before Erik could protest, he held up a hand. “Shaw’s orders. This is a priority level mark. And he did say he was putting you at risk doing this…so he just wants to make sure you succeed.”

  “Wants to monitor me…more like,” said Erik, but he shrugged. “ Listen, you might want to leave…”

  “Right,” said Hank, packing up his laptop. He reached over and poked Erik’s cheek. “Put the earpiece on!”

  Erik conceded and gave him a glower as the other man finally turned and left, waving as he did. Hank was friendly. If he wasn’t so against the idea of taking up the proper training, he’d have a higher chance of succeeding at this job than Erik did.

  He put the… _HankSpy_  in his pocket and moved towards his bedroom.

  The rest of the day was mundane. Erik just watched movers (without helping in the slightest) bring in the larger furniture. Erik would pick none of it out himself. He didn’t know why Hank said he would enjoy the color scheme when the color scheme was bright red and white. The couch, the curtains that were placed and the bedsheets were all red. The comforter on top even was polka dotted white and red.

  Stepping into this place, someone would feel like they had walked into a Target rather than someone’s home.

  It was well into the afternoon when they finished. He was leaning against the doorway as the movers passed him, tipping them with fifty dollar bills. He didn’t notice the person coming up behind him. He turned and saw a young man with blonde hair, pulling a long table towards Charles’s loft.

 At the sight of Erik, he paused to wipe sweat off his forehead. Wearing a full business suit was probably not helping his exhaustion.

 “…Hi…You must be the new neighbor,” He extended his hand towards Erik. “I’m Alex. Charles’s partner at work.”

 “Nice to meet you,” Erik replied, taking hold of his hand in a firm grip. “I’m Erik.”

 “You look like you lift, Erik. Mind helping me with this table?”

 Erik looked at the other end of the long table, knowing full well that if he helped, they could get it inside in half the time than him dragging it. If he was nicer, he might have given Alex more of a rest and offered to take it in by himself.  

“Sure…why not?” He was invited to this little party, after all. He moved to the other end and lifted it up. Alex briefly stopped on his end to open Charles’s door and allow them inside. Erik gave the place a quick onceover.

Somehow this loft looked bigger than his. Even though the square footage would show that they were exactly the same. It was probably Charles’s color scheme which he was immediately envious of here. His living room was a small step down with a large sectional beige couch and another grey colored one-seater next to it. His rug was white, grey and beige, fitting the color underneath a glass coffee table.

 There was also a fireplace which again, Erik didn’t have in his own loft. The brochure was a lie.

 He liked the place, and it had the feel of someone older than Charles. However by the small conversation he had with him, he took Charles as someone who enjoyed the quiet but liked to be around friends and family as well. He probably spent a lot of nights here reading.

 Maybe before Erik walked into his life in another form and ruined all leisure time indefinitely.

 He kind of smiled at the thought before paying attention again to Alex who was telling him where to place the table. They left it at an empty space by the kitchen while Alex leaned against the wall, breathing hard.

 “You have no idea…turning it vertical then sideways…then vertical again for the elevator…ugh,” said Alex through peals of labored breath.

 “You must be really dedicated to this party,” Erik noted.

 “Are you kidding me? He needs this. He never does anything outside of work anymore. Literally. Nothing. Spends his weekends at the office…just pouring over his workload.”

 “Yeah, he told me a little about that case. Seems to be draining him,” said Erik.

 “It is. Always. It’s what he thinks about night and day. I don’t know why. It’s not like it’s anything worth…looking into…,” Alex grumbled, then he straightened and looked at Erik with an awkwardly; the perfect expression of one who had said too much.

 “Sorry…I’m going to go get some drinks for the party. I’ll be back soon. I’ll see you at the party or did Charles invite…?”

 “He did…I’ll see you there,”

 Alex led the way out, closing and locking the door behind him while Erik watched as he exited the floor and disappeared behind the elevator doors.

 It was then that his pocket started moving and Erik jumped when the …HankSpy pulled itself free, activating on its own with a red light through the lens. It hovered up, eye level to Erik.

 “So, he seems nice.”

 Hank’s voice right in his ear succeeded in making Erik jump again. He had forgotten to remove the earpiece.

 “ I’m going to use that thing for softball practice,” said Erik irritably.

  The HankSpy just zoomed around above Erik and leered down at him, the camera lens blinking.

  “You would have to catch it first, and you can’t…so…,” He trailed off, sounding very pleased with himself. He moved from Erik towards Charles’s door.  “Are you going to…?”

  Erik didn’t respond, just stood by the HankSpy and waved his hand. Charles’s loft was open to him once again. This time as he stepped over the threshold, he felt a pang of guilt that he worked to suppress. He shouldn’t be here…but he needed to be.

  He headed straight for the bedroom this time which was much smaller than his. And it didn’t take long for him to figure out why. All it took was approaching the bookcase in the far right corner. He stared at the placement of empty wine glasses and then the painting next to it of a woman holding a glass of wine. It was kind of obvious what he needed to do.

  There was a statue in the back corner of an angel with her head down. He took one of the wine glasses off the shelf and carefully placed it by the stem into the angel’s hand. Her hand went down and the wall moved aside to reveal a study.

  At least that’s what it would be. But Charles had configured it differently. It was a very tiny room containing a desk and wall to wall bookshelves. Not that Erik could even see the titles given that Charles had pretty much wallpapered it with something else entirely. And as Erik drew closer, he could see exactly what.

  Random notes…a huge map of the New York Metropolis with several red tacks in different places. He had interwoven the tacks with a red string, trying to connect them all. Locations…his locations, places where Erik had completed contracts. He thought Charles would miss a few, but some of these were from all the way up to two years ago.

  It wasn’t just that, on another wall he had taken security camera pictures of him. Erik had the tech to take out cameras, and these were the images captured right before Erik did it. None of them showed his face, none of them made him identifiable. But it was still disturbing.

  On another wall he had made a rough sketch of what _he_ believed Erik looked like. He could see this was attempted several times with pencil before Charles conceded. The artwork depicted a very muscular man with a screwed up angry face. The nose was pointed, the eyes were black and cross. Good to know Charles thought he looked like a giant beefcake.

  The small desk is what he approached next and here’s where his heart skipped a beat. The notes all looked worn and even harder to read with Charles using red ink on yellow paper…but there was one note at the top that stood out, definitely the most recent. In bold letters, Charles had written the single word.

  “Mutant,” said Erik quietly, lifting the paper that said nothing else. The note struck something akin to fear inside of him. Just the word there looked so ominous, like it was a game changer for the detective.

  And as a mutant himself, perhaps it was. Still…

  He could have destroyed it. He could have just used his power and destroyed all of this, pushing the detective back a few steps. There was something…grudgingly admirable about all this, however. Something endearing. This dedication…this drive.

  “This is….this is amazing,” The HankSpy had been following Erik’s footsteps and it stopped short over his shoulder to peer at the word on the paper.

  “ _That’s_ disturbing,” said Hank. “….Well…maybe _not_ disturbing…I actually kind of respect him for coming to this conclusion so soon. This work is very _intensive_ for someone working on it on his off hours.”

  “….He doesn’t seem to have off hours, I’m beginning to think,” said Erik, setting the paper down exactly as it was placed.

  “Shaw is going to want to see all this. I can take a few pictures and send it off to him…but you know this situation is going to change. He’s going to order a hit…and expect you, the closest agent to take him out.”

   “Let’s hold off on any reports to Shaw. This is all speculative evidence. Nothing official,”

  “Erik. If he collects any more evidence on you, you’re going to have to-“

  “I know what I’m going to have to do. If it comes to that. It hasn’t yet,” said Erik with a note of finality in his tone.

  The HankSpy blinked at him and Erik could see the actual Hank probably doing the same.

  “Funny. It sounds like you don’t _want_ to take him out. This is a serious situation, Erik. It can’t be ignored for very long.”

  “He’s a good man. And his intentions are good,” said Erik, giving the HankSpy a humorless smirk. “…We’re not exactly the most moral of organizations. The reason for this impromptu investigation is sound. “

  “It doesn’t matter. We still have to do it.”

  “ I’m here to halt this investigation. And there are better ways to do that,” said Erik, looking to the door. “We need to get out of here before the party starts. “

  Without another word, Erik moved to the doorway and returned to the bedroom, shutting the study as it had been before. He made quick strides across the loft to the door which was left unlocked. Once he was outside, he breathed a sigh of relief and moved towards his loft door when the elevator doors opened and a group of chattering people emerged, Alex among them. Hank had less than a second to move his stupid floating form behind Erik’s head as they entered the other man’s loft. Erik was quick to shut the door behind him.

  “…You’re not thinking of actually going to this party, are you?”

  “ I was invited,” said Erik simply, approaching his bedroom closet.

  “It’s a cop party. What did you call a group of mutants? A cornucopia? And then a group of humans?”

  “An infestation. I know what I said,” said Erik irritably. “I'm going after I take care of something. I don’t care how many people are attending. Besides...”

  He removed the earpiece and set it down.

  “I’m only interested in the one.”


	5. The Party

The party was actually something Charles wanted to avoid at all costs. He was actually hoping that Alex would forget all about it when it all came close. But there was no such luck. As they parted ways from the office that evening, Alex pointed at Charles through the window of his office with a stern look.

"Better see you at yours after work. No dodging!”

“How exactly am I supposed to dodge it when it’s taking place at my house?”

Charles sighed. There was no way around it. There was only one redeeming part of this coming evening and he wasn’t even sure that he was going to show up at all. He packed his stuff and left the station, anticipating a line of cars waiting at the building.

But he barely cleared the parking lot before the radio was going off that there was a neighbors’ call in for a disturbance on 44 th street  on the fourth floor of an apartment building called Windsong.  44 th street was close to where he had chased the two suspects the other night.

His tires screeched as he turned around and made for another direction. He was going on a hunch…and maybe it was nothing.  Maybe.  Still, Charles wanted to make it there before the local police arrived.  The party could wait. He stopped on 44 th street and wrote a quick text to Alex apologizing and expressing he would be late before heading out.

There was a strange disquiet to this place that he didn’t like as he stepped inside the building. His hand automatically went to his holster, trained on his pistol as he used one hand to press 4 on the elevator.

The hall was empty as he expected the lighting dim. He reached out telepathically to see if he could pinpoint anything out of the ordinary, but he found nothing.

Which was even worse.

Luckily – or perhaps unluckily – there was a door that was left open, revealing a dark apartment. He did the polite thing first and decided to knock. No answer and the door opened even further to him.  He stepped inside – cautiously.

But there was no one. The apartment was full of furniture that looked like it hadn’t been touched for months, a fine sheet of dust collecting over every item in here.

“You know…,” Charles started at the sound of a voice coming up behind him, a shadow lingering near the door he had just come through.

“I would have figured you’d bring backup. But here you are…alone again,”

Charles instantly recognized the voice as the one who spoke to him in the alley. Low and metallic due to the mask that covered his half his face. No wonder he couldn’t hear anyone’s thoughts…he couldn’t do it in the alley either.

His gun was pulled from the holster and held up level to the shadow. “You created a false disturbance on the off chance that I’d be the one to show up? Risky.  The police will come to investigate.”

“There was no  _ off _ chance,” The stranger replied, stepping forward and causing Charles to take an automatic step back. The moonlight was coming in strong behind him that Charles finally got a better look at him. He was wearing a loose-fitted black uniform that looked like a simple long sleeved black shirt and pants except there was a burgundy cape that was hooked around the back of his shoulders. His head was covered by a black hood and around his eyes there was a black substance that made them gleam. The mask he had secured on his face was over his chin, lips and the upper part of his nose, making it impossible to discern any other distinguishing features.

 “You were going to show up. I knew it’d be you…because  _ you _ are looking for me.”

 Charles scowled. “…Of course I’m on the lookout for someone who murders innocent people and disappears without a trace.”

 “You have no evidence, Detective. I’d withhold the venom from my tone,” The stranger replied coldly.

 “It doesn’t matter that I have no real evidence to the murders…but I can arrest you on this charge. Breaking and entering…calling in a false lead…,” As he said it, Charles withdrew handcuffs from his pocket.

 He should have expected what happened next, the handcuffs became flimsy in his hand and seconds later, one linked around his wrist and then the other. Charles scoffed when he heard the metal click into place.

 “I really… _ really  _ don’t like you,” Charles muttered. He dropped his cuffed hands and glowered at the assassin. “What do you want from me?”

 The assassin took a step closer to Charles and again he took another long step back, this time he hit the wall. The assassin lazily lifted his hand and Charles’s hands were pulled upward above his head where he was pinned.

 This was it…this was where he was going to die…and it was going to be painful. This mutant controlled metal. Of course it was going to hurt.

 The other man was so close now, just inches away from being flush against him. His hand flattened on the wall right next to Charles’s head. “I told you…the first day I met you…that you’re playing a dangerous game. Your reasons for conducting the investigation are sound,  I’ll give you that much. However, you’re treading on unfamiliar territory. You’ll make more enemies than you can imagine. And you won’t be able to stop any of them.”

 “I’m not going to stop. Throw whatever threat you want at me. You’ll have to kill me, first.”

 The assassin snapped, his gloved hand on the wall physically clamping down on the chain between the two cuffs causing Charles to involuntarily wince.

 “I’m  _ not _ threatening you. I’m speaking the truth. Drop your investigation, Detective. Rule these cases as the rest of your department has. Suicides. That’s all they are to them, and that’s all they should be to you,” The assassin growled.

 “You’ll have to kill me,” Charles repeated, more slowly.

  “You say that like I wouldn’t,”

  “You won’t. You had your chance. You even have it right now. And you’re not acting on it.  You of all people seem to know how to silence a problem.”

 “I do,” The assassin snarled, calling the bluff and tightening his grip on the handcuffs. 

 “Then do it. I’m **_not_ ** afraid of you.”

 The determination in Charles’s eyes burned and the assassin was left staring at him, fascinated despite himself. It was unusual to see from Charles’s perspective, seeing an obstinate soul not so unlike himself get thrown off guard. 

 The assassin leaned in close, lips inches away from Charles as the menacing words slipped out.

  “You  _ should  _ be.” 

 Charles’s response was a long time, peering up at the other man in the darkness, seeing the anger in his eyes.  He squinted a little; trying to break through the mental barriers the other mutant had placed to protect his mind. His attempt may have been a little harsh because he saw the other man flinch and shake his head as if he had been struck.

 “You’ll have to try a little  _ harder  _ than that to read my mind,”

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Charles quietly.

 “…Really,” The other man’s eyebrow shot up, looking slightly amused. “You’ve been trying to claw your way inside for some time. You’ve spent too much time with the weak-minded. It’s made you soft. Held you back.”

 “I suppose you find your ability to resist it an endearing quality,”

 The assassin smirked, taking Charles’s chin with his free hand. “…For you, maybe.”

 Charles remained still in that hold for a moment, trying to ignore that he _ almost  _ found the other’s amusement contagious.

 He snapped out of it, shaking his head away and breaking that hold.

  “Let me go.”

The assassin nodded once. “...I will let go.  I’m not going to kill you. Not tonight. “

 Charles just stared. “..What?”

   He dropped Charles’s hands, and the power that kept the handcuffs above him. Charles watched as he stepped away to give him room and started to leave him.

 At the door, he stopped. “You saved my friend. I haven’t forgotten. Consider this a debt repaid,  _ Charles. _ ” 

Before Charles could say anything else, the other had left him, closing the door behind him. His handcuffs seemed to tighten on him and he fumbled to get his hands impossible towards his back pocket to find the key...but two minutes passed and they unlinked themselves, falling off his wrists and to the ground with a small thud.  

 Charles scowled, rubbing his wrists. He could have hit himself for this. Not only was he subdued so easily,  he had let him go. On top of that, the assassin just proved to have more knowledge on him than he ever did on him. All the work he had put up in his study and the assassin knew his **name.**

 Well, that was the perk of actually displaying his face like a normal person.

 The encounter had left his mind reeling and his mind was elsewhere as he went back to his car, he saw two patrol units show up. He was quick to tell them it was a false alarm and that the upstairs neighbor was jumpy. He wondered if he should at least ask them to do a sweep of the premises but he was sure that the man was long gone.

 And then he remembered the party. As soon as he settled in the drivers’ seat he called Alex.

 “Where the hell are you?”

  “On my way now. I’m sorry. I got…sidetracked.”

 There were loud noises on the other end and he knew Alex probably didn’t hear him. Whoever decided that he needed music with booming bass was an idiot…and he could guess it was the one he was conversing with right now.

 “What? Anyway, get over here! The party’s already started! I mean…I was gonna have everyone jump up and yell surprise but since you’re  _ so _ late…we went ahead without you.”

 Alex hung up on him then and Charles just frowned at the number before speeding up, trying desperately to shake off what just happened and actually get in the mood for excessive social interaction.

 Charles expected noises when he got to his floor, but given how silent his last twenty minutes had been, the barrage of thoughts was enough to cause a wave of anxiety. Drunken thoughts were the worst because none of it made sense.

 He opened his door and was pulled inside by several hands, arms wrapping around him. His eyes flashed upward and met the gaze of the faces he recognized, smiling sheepishly. Alex was quick to come towards him from the kitchen area, thrusting a beer into his hand and opening it while Charles still held it.

 “You earned it. Even though you’re late as all hell.”

 “Sorry about that,” said Charles, scratching the back of his head. “ I was trying to tell you I got sidetracked.”

 “Whatever. Finish this beer,” said Alex sternly. “I mean it. No more thinking about work. Or I’ll make you take the yard glass challenge.”

 Charles glanced where he was pointing towards a two foot tall curved glass of beer that one of the other party goers was about to undertake.

 “I’ll pass,” said Charles. “Let me go to the bathroom real quick.”

 He turned and left Alex, rubbing his temples as he went with both hands. The quick swig of beer that he took didn’t help. As he blindly made his way towards the bathroom, he shifted around two men standing there talking, paying him no attention and slipped inside.

 His back was to the door in an instant, just trying to drown out all of the thoughts that were now circulating alongside his inside his mind.

 ….w _ onder if she likes me. She’s never hinted at anything before. _

_  …can’t believe it’s already past eleven! _

_  … shouldn’t drink…this is already my fourth can. _

_  ..was there a coat check room? I don’t know where my coat is. _

__ Charles placed his hands over his face again and moved towards the sink where he splashed himself with water and sniffed, looking at his reflection. He looked a mess. He was really in no mood to indulge this party.

It only became worse when he worked to tune everything out…and he was able to hear the conversation outside. The two men were agents from different departments than him.

 “…What’s going on? Are we  _ still  _ waiting for the guy who’s party this is?” The first man asked.

 “I don’t even know. Summers just came up to me and said free alcohol and I was sold.” The second man replied with a gruff voice.

 “Heh. I heard it was for Detective Xavier.”

 “That scrawny kid? Man…”

“What? What have you heard?”

 “That he’s a little more than _ unhinged _ . No joke. Word is he’s trying to reliven dead end cases in hopes of finding a serial killer.”

 “Are you serious?”

 “Dead serious. Check the database. Every suicide case in the last year has been pulled out and reviewed by Charles Xavier. He’s a nutcase. There’s no evidence, no fingerprints, no evidence of a break in or struggle in any of them to prove there was murder or foul play and he’s been hounding the Captain about it, trying to convince him there’s something else to it.”

 “Suicide cases, really?”

 “Yup. It’s crazy. Don’t believe me, check. I don’t even know why the Captain keeps him around. Feels sorry for him, maybe. Have you seen the guy? Sometimes wears the same exact thing for a week.”

 “Shit man…that kind of instability shouldn’t even be permitted.”

 “You’re telling me.”

 “Well…I’ll at least say one thing…he does provide good beer.”

 They both laughed.

 “Come on, let’s get out of here. This place is dead.”

 Charles remained in place against the door. To be truthful, he was used to hearing what people really thought of him. He had learned long ago to be no longer offended by it since thoughts were meant to be private as it were. So he did his best to ignore them. This little exchange stung, however...and it was amplified by what happened in his encounter with the assassin earlier. The man could never be caught in a system like this. 

   And yet he had let him go...it was reeling. It shook him. He was being toyed with. 

 All of a sudden, he felt dirty. Contaminated somehow. He was bringing danger here. All these people. Good people, despite whatever less-than-kind thoughts they had about him. 

 Charles was quick to open the door and walk out, spotting the back of Alex’s head near the door. As his partner remained the only one on the bureau that knew about his ability, he reached out to him telepathically.

_ Alex. Party’s over. Get everyone o- _

__ His thought cut short when he saw who Alex was standing with. An easy smile was passing between them when Charles looked. Erik could pull off darker clothing better than Charles could for sure. The black dress shirt, unbuttoned by two at the top and just jeans. Such simple attire, yet standing here, he looked like some kind of movie star.

 “Charles,” Alex turned towards him. “I met your neighbor. He’s the one who helped-”

 “Erik!” Charles said, bypassing Alex almost completely. “...You...You made it.”

  “Of course...Happy birthday...I got you something,” Erik took out a black box and handed it to him.

 “You...You didn’t have to get me anything,” said Charles, smiling despite himself as he took the box. 

 “Well, when I heard you were running late...I took the opportunity, to be honest,” said Erik, shrugging and grinning at him. 

 Charles bit his lower lip for a minute, his anxiety subsiding as pulled the lid off. He was left staring a white diamond rolex sitting on a small cushion.

 “Oh…,” Charles flushed a bit, his fingers hovering but not daring to touch. “ You…..Thank you.”

 “Of course.”

 “Listen…,” Charles cleared his throat and straightened. “...I think this party is coming to an end….but I don’t want you to..go anywhere. Do you mind? Ahem...I mean...would you like to go out for drinks?”

 Erik just smiled at him. “Of course.”

 “Good...That’s...That’s good. Alex,” Charles turned to him. “Do you mind clearing everyone out?”

 ‘What? I mean the party just started!”

 “Alex…”

 “Fine….Fine…,” said Alex, resigned as he turned to address the room as a whole. “All right. Party’s over! Everyone out. Come on!”

 


	6. Complications

 Alex could clear a room. There were grunts and some grumbles about the party ending too early but Charles was all too happy to see them go. Especially now that he knew what probably more than half of them really thought of him. Charles was more focused on Erik as the door finally closed, leaving them alone.

 “Thank you again. For the gift.” said Charles, taking the watch out of the box and moving to slide it on his wrist.

  “Here…Let me…,” Erik moved forward to take Charles’s hand. “It saves time to have two hands helping you with these.”

  “You…really didn’t have to get me something like this..”

  Erik tilted his head at him as he clasped the metal together. “Of course I did. It’s your birthday.”

  “Still…,” Charles smiled, a little sheepish as he broke his gaze from the other man. “So I know a place. It’s a few blocks from here if you’re willing to walk it.”

  “Sure…let me just grab my jacket…I’ll be back,” said Erik, turning for the door and leaving the other man briefly to reenter his loft.

  Hank and his stupid floating face was right there to greet him. Erik heard nothing from him until he slipped the earpiece on the counter back on.

  “Where have you been? You’re _supposed_  to take me with you. That’s part of the HankSpy experience!”

  “I’m not taking you with me everywhere I go. You can tell Shaw that. I’m going out again and I’m not taking you with me now either,”

  “But-“

  “No,” said Erik sharply, heading into his bedroom where the floating baseball from Hell followed him.

  “But where are you going?” Hank asked.

  “Out,” said Erik.

  Before Hank could pry further, there was a small knock at Erik’s door which had them both freezing.

  “Erik, do you mind if we take my car? It looks like it’s going to rain…I don’t want us both to catch a cold.”

  “….Yeah, that’s fine with me,” Erik called back.

  “Okay! I’ll be by the elevator.”

  “Thank you,” said Erik.

  There was a moment both Erik and Hank waited before they could hear Charles’s footsteps fade before Hank’s hovering form leered down at Erik.

  “You’re going  _out_  with him?”

  “Yes. So? What of it?”

  “What of it?  _What of it?_  He’s your  _mark._  You’re supposed to be taking care of him. And not in _this_  way, mind you.”

  “It’s his birthday,” said Erik defensively.

  “I don’t care if it’s Christmas Eve. You’re not supposed to be flirting with him…courting him…or whatever the hell it is you’re doing. You have orders to neutralize him. He’s a major threat to our organization. You saw that yourse-“

  “As I recall,” Erik interrupted smoothly. “There hasn’t been a hit ordered on the detective…My orders are to disrupt his investigation. If that entails getting involved with him…then that’s what it takes.”

  “ _How_  involved are we talking?”

  “As much as I need to be.”

  “Erik,” Hank forced calm into his tone. “…The longer you spend with this telepath…the more you open yourself up to him, the harder those mental barriers will be to uphold.  I’m not kidding you. It’ll be an unconscious reaction. Before long, he’ll see  **everything** you don’t want him to see.”

  “I’m in control of my mind,” Erik snapped, pulling a black leather jacket from his closet and slipping it on. “Even if it were to come to that, I can put a stop to it before it gets bad. Easy. I’ll just leave.”

  “I don’t know if Shaw is willing to take that risk.”

  “That’s why Shaw doesn’t need to know. He doesn’t care how a job is done as long as it does get done. That’s what I plan to do…and if you breathe a single word to him about this…” Erik trailed off, his expression turning grim.

  “I’m not,” said Hank. “I was hoping you’d be planning on telling him in your next report. You know he’s going to check in.”

  “I know he is.” He began to walk towards the door.

  “Erik…Don’t let your personal feelings get involved.”

  “…. Don’t wait up for me,” said Erik, adjusting his collar and taking out the earpiece so he didn’t have to listen to this…’voice of reason’ anymore. He stepped outside and locked the door.

  Charles was waiting for him at the end, one hand in his pocket, the other out looking at the new watch on his wrist. He glanced up at Erik when approached.

   “Seriously. You didn’t have to –“

  “Enough of that,” said Erik, coming up behind him so he could see the gold gleam from Charles’s perspective. Without hesitation, he reached up and took Charles’s hand then, fingers lightly interlocking.  “It looks good on you. I have no regrets. “

  “…Thanks,” said Charles, flushing a deep shade of red as he dropped his hand and looked at the other man sheepishly before his expression melted to exasperation. “Oh! I forgot my phone. You go on down! I’ll meet you there!”

  “Okay,” Erik answered. The extremely unwelcome prospect of standing in an elevator alone was irritating, but he hid his scowl behind a small grin as he stepped away and the doors closed between them.

  The closed space broke any amount of comfort he had, the walls starting to come together. He closed his eyes to try to calm himself before it could get worse.  Why? Why did this thing have to feel so like a coffin? His triggers came back in full force and he was suddenly ten years old again, ordered by Shaw to face his fears.

  And suddenly he was back there again…seven years old and lying on his back inside of the metal box where straps had been tied down on his wrists and his feet. A test…they had called it a test of strength and endurance. Shaw said he would conquer fear itself if he managed to free himself.

  He heard the dirt as it piled on top of the metal. He didn’t scream when they had put him down, restrained him…but as the darkness started to close in around him, that’s when he started….and once he started, he couldn’t stop. Unconsciously, he was writhing, trying to fight his way out.

His mutation was far from mastered…and he didn’t even know the extent of his capabilities yet…

_“Erik…”_

  The darkness didn’t scare him. It was simply the nothingness…The realization that he was going to die here and there was nothing…nothing that could stop it. No one would cry…no one would mourn. No one would even think to look for him….because he didn’t exist in the system any longer. He was nothing…and this was where his story ended.

  He could hear the screaming as if they were tearing from his chest once more.

  “Erik!”

  The voice called him back to reality. He opened his eyes to find the wall of the elevator in front of him, his hands flat against it. The doors had opened he knew without looking because he felt like he could actually breathe again. Charles’s hand was clamped on his shoulder next to him in a tight grip.

  “What …What happened?”

  “Are you all right?” Charles asked first, his hold on him loosening an inch.

  “I’m fine…fine now…,” said Erik, shaking his head and straightening his hunched shoulders. “What happened?”

  “You had a panic attack. Hyperventilated a little…” Charles told him, reaching under his arm to press a cold hand to Erik’s chest. Instead of wincing, the other man became hyper aware of how cold Charles’s touch was, and he could feel his heart beating rapidly underneath. He wasn’t lying…he had a panic attack. A panic attack that was severe enough that he nearly blacked out from it.

  “Are you sure?” Charles was saying, his voice still echoing somewhat.

  “Yeah…,”

  “You want to cancel this? I swear we can do this another ti-”

  “ _No_ …I want to go,” Erik answered. “Just…give me a minute. Please.”

  “Take your time,” said Charles, stepping out of the confined space, but keeping a foot between the doors so they kept from closing on him.

  Erik waited until the beat of his heart returned to a more normal pace, waited until his breathing evened out before he stepped out of the elevator. Charles watched him all the way to his car and didn’t move to the driver side door, following Erik to the passenger side where he opened the door for him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?”

  “I’m sure, Charles. Don’t worry. It’s not the first time it’s happened,” said Erik in a slightly grim voice. One could hope his mental barriers were holding…and Charles hadn’t caught anything he shouldn’t have. Hank’s words were replaying in his mind. 

_Before long, he’ll see **everything** you don’t want him to see._

   Erik shook off the thought and slid inside the car. The ride was silent for the most part, Charles looking over at him occasionally as if he was checking his state. Erik had already conditioned himself to move past the aftermath of these panic attacks easily. Though he would be remiss if he didn’t admit that he hadn’t had them in a long time. It could have been because of Charles...but he didn’t want to think that.

  The bar was nothing out of the ordinary…dim lighting…easygoing music and only a few people inside. Charles led them over to a high table, sliding into a stool and gesturing for Erik to do the same while he looked towards the nearby waitress and ordered a bottle of whiskey with coke and two glasses.

 “Whiskey?” Erik asked as he moved to sit across from him.

 “Whiskey, yes. Oh. I’m sorry. I can get you water. You probably prefer…after what happened…”

 “No. Whiskey is fine. I’m just surprised that’s  _your_ drink of choice.”

 “Why? Oh…yes. I supposed it’s a little strong…,” Charles agreed. “Truth be told…I shouldn’t be drinking at all. “

 “Hangover?”

 Charles nodded. “That…and my impeccable ability to forget _everything_  the night before. It’s a real problem. I’ve heard stories about my behavior…but most of my stories are coming from my partner which I feel might have been exaggerated a bit. Still…I’d just…probably rather not hear said stories ever again. Makes me want to swear off drinking…but then days like today happen.”

 “What happened today?” Erik asked innocently as their drinks were brought and he proceeded to pour them both a glass. He wouldn’t allow himself to drink much here, for different reasons than Charles. He was perfectly sound with the drink in his system, but he could do without the impaired motor functions. Not with the recent episode in the elevator fresh on his mind.

 “Just some things,” said Charles with a dismissive wave of his hand as he took a large sip of his drink. “ Remember that hair-pulling…frustrating case I told you a little about? Yeah…that happened…Close. I was  _so_ close. As close as I ever could be…and he got away.”

 Charles placed his hands over his face, rubbing fatigue from his eyes. “…And I let him. I can’t believe it…I should have done more…I should have been able to stop him..”

 “Did you have anyone else to help you?” Erik asked.

 “No…,” said Charles blandly. “…But that’s not the point. I’m better than this. Or at least…I thought I was.”

 “If you don’t mind me saying,” Erik began, taking his own glass and leaving it tipped near his bottom lip. “…Why don’t you just hand the investigation over to someone else? It seems to be piling on more stress than necessary.”

  “I can’t…the suspect is…someone like…,” He paused, biting down on his lower lip. “…He’s different.  Not like anyone I’ve ever encountered before.”

 Charles hadn’t encountered another  _mutant_ before. This was by no means easy for him. It was the draw…and it was the disdain at the same time. It was different for Erik who had spent much of his youth around them. He couldn’t empathize with the appeal…because the excitement for him…wore off within the first few minutes once he realized what he was in for.

 “There’s other cases,” said Erik quietly.

 “…There are but I don’t think I’ll find one like this. No. I have to do this _. I have to,”_ said Charles with a slight edge to his tone. He glanced at Erik and his expression softened. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to sound rude…you’re just not the first one to tell me that, trust me. Everyone has an opinion on what a 'waste' of time this is.”

 “You don’t have to explain it to me,” said Erik. And he meant it…because now he understood more. From the civilian side less but the assassin knew. That didn’t mean he approved of it, however.

  “ I just don’t think you should get hurt,” Erik continued and his eyebrows furrowed with some tension. He looked Charles in the eye and once again he was struck with the fact that this man was good. He was noble. Saying this would probably prove futile, but he wanted Charles to at least consider it.

   “It’d be worth it,” Charles replied with a wry smile, pouring his third glass. “People get hurt…you do what you can. In whatever way possible. It’s part of the job.”

  “What about you? What happens when _you_ get hurt is what I’m saying,” Erik answered.

   “It’s all right, Erik,” said Charles calmly. “I’ve managed to survive this long…and I’ve gotten through my share of tough situations. I’m sure I still have a few years left in me.”

  Erik suppressed a slight scowl at the detective’s words, looking away from him towards the bar counter. If Erik was doing his job…which he should have been, then this would be more than a scrape for the detective. Even now…as they were sitting here, he could do it. He could utilize his power, control all of the many metallic substances in the bar and level the place. He’d leave behind no evidence of himself just as always. And that would be the end of Charles Xavier. There would be no pursuit because no one would believe him, and even if there was…he would crush them the same way.

  He couldn’t quite understand why that just… _bothered_ him so much….why that train of thought he’d rather purge and never think of again. It left him feeling a strange sort of emptiness. It couldn’t _just_ be because Charles was the symbol of good morality.

  Erik was so spaced out in his thoughts, the sudden feel of Charles’s fingertips on the cheek that faced him. He looked back, eyes wide for a moment before his tension started to release.

  Charles’s eyes were hooded, slightly red. The flush in his face was as prominent as ever. He had drawn closer to him, close enough that Erik could almost feel the heat coming from his body.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore…do you mind if we talk about something else?” Charles asked.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “You,” Charles placed his palm gently against his cheek, fingers splaying outward. His thumb brushed under his cheek as if wiping away a tear. “…Your eyes….Your eyes look so sad. So far away…I feel like I can _barely_ begin to grasp why.”

  Erik felt his chest tighten a bit and he let out a soft breath, smiling as if to brush aside the comment. “Maybe you’re just seeing things…since I’m pretty sure you’re heavily intoxicated.”

  Charles smiled back at him and dropped his hand back to his lap, facing downward for a moment. “I guess…I’ve talked about myself a lot…So let me ask you a question. Are you seeing anyone? Like…um….dating?”

  Intoxicated Charles seemed to have a looser tongue. Erik had a feeling this question would be wondered but not posed out loud.

   “I am…not,” said Erik, his tension breaking somewhat, amused despite himself. “Are you?”

   “I just recently got out of a relationship,” said Charles, doing the ( probably ) bad thing and taking another large sip of his drink. The large bottle had been almost entirely consumed by him alone. And Erik was learning quickly he was a lightweight.

  “Their loss,” said Erik, not breaking eye contact with the detective.

  Charles flushed even more, chuckling slightly. “ You know I’ve…never really had an interest in a man before. I suppose I never really had time to think of…dating with my profession. Even my last relationship was growing more and more distant. “

  “ Well I can’t say I wouldn’t be remiss if distance kept growing,”

  “Luckily, you live across from me,” Charles answered, leaning in again.

  “Luckily,” Erik agreed.

  “Hmm…,” Charles began to slump, his elbow on the table starting to be his only support. His eyes closed and he started moving closer. Erik could see the shine in his eyes now. His lips were inches away from his own.

  And he would have indulged…had this situation not taken place in a bar where Charles’s mind and tongue were heavily influenced by alcohol. That, among other more _guilty_ feelings caused him to turn away, Charles’s lips pressing against his cheek. The detective’s slump continued and his body nearly collided with Erik’s, who caught him before his chair could fall over, arms wrapping around tight.

  Charles contented himself there, against his chest, ear pressed to his heart. “…Hmmm…Sleepy.”

  Erik was still for a moment, very much aware of how close they were, how much of him was touching Charles. He leaned down to speak into the other man’s hair.

  “I’ll take you home…Come on.”


	7. Dangerous Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in posting. Been way too busy with other projects. I'm hoping my drive to finish this story makes the chapters come out a little faster now :) Thanks for you all your kudos/comments. Ya'll are the best <3

 Truth be told, Erik wasn’t entirely sure that Charles was fully coherent when he took him back to his car. He fished for keys out of the other man’s pocket, placing him gently onto the passenger seat while he took to the other side and started the engine. Charles hadn’t been lying before…he really was a lightweight.

 Once they were parked in front of their building, Erik ventured off to the other side and unbuckled the seat belt to take Charles into his arms, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back. As if the whole night hadn’t been strangely intimate already…what with Erik basically starting it by gifting him the watch.

 Thinking about it now as he carried Charles inside, part of Erik hoped that Charles would just pawn it. It didn’t look like the detective was hurting for money…but it would make Erik feel less like he was starting to take a strange and personal interest in this mark. He thought about what Raven would tell him, and he could imagine her response would be in the form of a question. If he was going to give a mark a present, why not stick a grenade in it?

 It’d be messy, but it’d get the job done.

 Erik could practically hear her chastising him for it. If she was on this case, she wouldn’t have hesitated in the slightest. Erik’s attitude would have worn enough that she would have taken matters in her own hands.

 But this was different…and in a way, he was in this situation because of her. He had taken the fall for her tons of times in the past and it was shrugged off, but this was something different. This was something that threatened to weaken him. And if he was weak…then he wasn’t worth anything to the organization.

 Charles’s cheek was pressed to his chest in a comfortable position. He could hear him humming as he stepped towards the elevator and hesitated in place. At least one of them was comfortable…and he wasn’t about to go into another panic attack tonight. He made for the stairs and took one step at a time, slowly due to the extra weight.

 Once he got to their floor, it was just an unconscious decision to utilize his power without shifting Charles in his arms and use his key. The door was unlocked and he stepped into the other man’s loft, finding it very annoying that there was a very faint smell of Charles’s cologne permeating the air that he was starting to enjoy.

 The detective was taken to his room where Erik began to set him down with the full plan to vacate the loft right after. Charles, however, chose that moment to partially wake up, latch around Erik’s neck with both arms and pull him down on top.

 Abruptly, Erik’s face smushed against the pillow where he let out a muffled groan.

 “Charles…Wake up,”

 “Hmm,” Charles just hummed again and squeezed him tighter before rolling them both over and laying on top of Erik, hands pressed flat over his chest.

 “ _Charles_ …,” Erik muttered again, but to no avail; Charles was already falling asleep again.

 It was a hard situation. He could be less than kind, push Charles off of him and make for the door before the other realized what happened. That seemed cruel somehow. He found himself not liking the prospect of waking him up so soon.

 Charles may be affectionately cuddling him now…but that didn’t suggest he would feel the same when he woke up sober. He’d seen enough comedy movies to know that that was when the person invading the bed would get hit by a frying pan or something else equally hard.

 So he stayed still…still and awake. Erik couldn’t allow himself to sleep with Charles so close to him. He was perfectly capable of guarding his mind in his waking hours…but when he was asleep, that was a different story. There was no defense from any nightmares stemmed from his childhood or his line of work. If those dreams projected to Charles, then his cover was blown. True Charles was probably slipping into a very deep sleep that stopped him from picking up on thoughts, but Erik couldn’t take that risk.

 His breathing evened out and he watched the other man rise and fall with each movement of his chest. He returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around him, rubbing circles in the small of his back. This definitely wasn’t part of the plan tonight.

 Erik planned on moving the moment Charles did. But he didn’t move off him. Two hours passed and Erik remained immobile. At this rate, he was going to go bloodshot and when the time came to pretend to have been sleeping when Charles woke up, he was going to actually drift off.

 Luck was on his side when Charles shifted a little, compacting himself and shivering.  Erik was able to gently wrap an arm around Charles and place him on the bed alone. He immediately curled in again as Erik slid off the bed and freed himself.

 He should just leave. Right now. But there was something annoyingly wrong with just leaving him in the cold. He was able to tug off Charles’s shoes, place them at the end of the bed. Then he slowly pulled on the blanket until it was no longer under him and laid it gently on top.

 There was a moment where Erik stood there. This was another opportunity, easier than the first in the bar. Charles was not far off from REM sleep that Erik could kill him without letting Charles make a sound. There were enough knives in the kitchen and Erik knew the exact positions to make it look like he took his own life.

 If Erik wanted to be practical, he could collapse the entire room on Charles and kill him before the detective could utter a sound. This wouldn’t be his only chance, he was sure…but it was enough of one to make a move.

 And yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it…any of it. The detective was a thorn in the organization’s side. Erik wasn’t helping matters by confronting him in the assassins’ garb…but he wanted to get his warning out. It seemed, after their conversation tonight, that he had only succeeded in making Charles want to pursue him more. Now that there was no illusion and solid proof…proof that he had even conversed with, there was no stopping him.

 Thinking back now on how Charles had hit on him in the bar…and how cute he looked when he was speaking with a drunken slur…and how his eyes became hooded when he leaned in…Yes, there was no doubt now that he had a personal interest in Charles that went beyond taking him off his investigation. He found himself concerned for the man’s safety…concerned that he might have to resort to this deadly measure to stop him. Even if Erik was taken off this investigation now for this sentiment, there would be another, more ruthless assassin that would just add Charles to their kill count and move on.

 It was dangerous. These were dangerous thoughts. It was just like how he had told Charles so many times. This was a dangerous game, and he was playing right into it. He had to get out of here…this loft, this room. Any longer here and he may well be tempted rekindle the opportunity missed in the bar with Charles. He turned and left the room, closing the door gently on the peacefully sleeping detective.

 Once he was in the safety of his own loft, that…abominable HankSpy was up and in his face, literally floating a few centimeters away. As he stared eye to eye with it like this, he could see that the little LED light that Hank had inside was glowing red. He had disregarded that it was normally blue.

 Without the earpiece, he couldn’t hear what was meant to be said, but it was safe to assume that the light inside changing color to red meant he was angry.

 “Don’t you judge me,” said Erik sharply, closing the door behind him and reluctantly picking up the ear piece off the counter top.

 “Oh I’m not judging you. I’m infuriated with you. I’m just glad I’m not seeing you come in later…with a distinct.. **AFTER FORNICATION** smell on you.”

 “You can’t even smell through this thing,” said Erik, waving a dismissive hand at the floating device as he made for his room, pulling his jacket off on the way.

 “That’s not the point, Erik…but…,” Erik heard him sigh.  “I’m…just hoping you know what you’re doing. I know your track record…and I know the methods some of the other members or our organization use. “

 Erik stuck his head out the door. “Meaning _what_ , exactly?”

 “Let’s just call all this a…… ** _Seduction tactic,_** ” Hank muttered the two words like it was something dirty.

 “It is a valid tactic,” said Erik, ducking back into the room to change into his nightclothes.

* * *

* * *

 The next morning as Charles expected, he was hung over. He was so glad it was Sunday morning, so he could just faceplant the pillow and turn off his thoughts once more.

 That was until the events of last night started to replay in his mind and he shot up – too fast – causing an already aching head to worsen. What had happened exactly? He had attended Alex’s party thrown for him…which wasn’t the greatest. Largely in part due to Charles walking in late and aggravated.

 Then he went with Erik to the bar and then…and then…no.

He was quick to retreat to the bathroom, brush his teeth and wash his face to wake up more, all the while struggling to recall what actually happened and what was said. He was in his bed…did that mean he  ** _passed out_** and Erik had to carry him up?

 Well, that was embarrassing.

  Before he could stop himself, he was getting dressed as fast as possible in a t-shirt and jeans and darting for the door, praying that the other was home. Tentatively, he raised his hand and knocked twice. 

  Erik opened the door, fully dressed in a white t-shirt and bluejeans. 

  “Charles! This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”

  “I just…wanted to talk to you for a bit…if you don’t mind?”

  Erik opened the door further to let him in. “I was just making some breakfast. Come on in.”

  Charles followed him inside, taking in the appearance of the loft. It certainly wasn’t what he expected with how Erik dressed. He was expecting darker colors.  Yet the red an white wasn’t unpleasant.  His living room was themed bright red with the couch, the ottoman and the rug below being the same color. Tilting his head to the side, Charles could see that even the bedspread had a red comforter.

  “I like your color scheme. Are you going to paint the walls too?”

  “Someone else picked it out,” said Erik, retreating towards the kitchen. “I’m just sort of stuck with it.”

   "I still like it,“ said Charles, moving towards one of the barstools on the other side of the kitchen counter. He watched Erik for a moment as the other man kept his back to him, busy over a frying pan.

   Good. It was probably easier to talk to Erik when his back was turned.

  “Listen…I’m sorry about last night. I have a tendency to black out whenever I drink so if I acted any kind of weird…or said anything weird…I apologize.”

  Erik paused, turning the heat down and peering at Charles from the side, his eyebrow raised.

  “You blacked out? What, so you don’t remember  **anything**  from last night? Nothing at all?”

  “Bits and pieces,” said Charles, squinting at him before he covered his face entirely behind both hands. “What? Oh…I said something weird,  _didn’t I?_ I knew it. I knew I probably passed out at the very least. Last thing I can…recall  _well_  was just deciding to go to the bar with you.”

  “You didn’t say anything weird,” The faintest smile appeared across Erik’s lips, amused at Charles’s flustering. “I wouldn’t call it weird anyway.”

  “What did I say?” Charles asked without looking up.

  “Hahh…now I’m not sure if I want to tell you,” said Erik, plucking a kettle off another stove top and pouring a mug. He carried off a plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs and sausage around and placed it in front of Charles with a steaming cup of coffee.

  The temptation of food roused Charles enough to pull his hands away and watch Erik settle behind the counter again, his hand gripping the edge of the surface as his body leaned in a…playfully taunting sort of way with his hand on his hip.

  “Please tell me. Was I rude?”

  “No..,” said Erik, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Wouldn’t say you were rude either…maybe just a little…more…forward.”

 “Oh no…Oh no…Oh no…,” Charles covered his face again, shaking his head.

  Erik gave a soft laugh before coming around the corner towards him. “It’s okay, Charles. It wasn’t a bad thing. Though it was surprising, to say the least.”

  Charles placed his forehead against the granite. “Please understand…that’s not my usual…or normal behavior. I promise I’m more professional.”

  “Why on Earth would I want you to be more professional? You’re not at work.”

  “Ugh…It’s just…I was drunk and stupid…and saying stupid things. Who am I kidding? You’d _never_  be interested in someone like me.  I haven’t even dated a man before…You probably don’t want someone who’s just…always…in their own job…can’t even show up on time for my own birthday party…Just…a mess. My loft isn’t even as clean as yours.. I haven’t even apologized for the mess. I’m sorry. It’s a messy loft. I’ll clean it. My mother always said I couldn’t shake off a bad habit of cleaning when I’m upset…and now I realized that I forgot to vacuum before inviting you up for the party.”

  He was rambling, continuing to speak against the counter top so fast that Erik had to lean closer to get clear hearing of him.

  “Charles…Charles…” Erik reached over and took grip of one of his hands still covering his face and giving a light tug. “…Charles..easy. Take a breath.”

  “No no…No.” Charles kept reciting on repeat.

  Applying a little more force, Erik pulled his hands away and Charles faced him with a miserable expression.

  “You didn’t say anything stupid. You’re not even  _remotely_ stupid…so don’t say that. And don’t say I’m never going to be interested in you…,” said Erik, leaning in to catch his gaze. 

  “You are still? I mean…are you still?” 

  “Of course…Come here.”

  Erik led him away, off the counter and led him to the middle of the living room.  He waved a hand and the stereo began to play soft piano music. Charles stared around as he settled in Erik’s embrace, gripping his arms in the slow sway, his cheeks turning slightly red.

  “Where’s that coming from?”

  “Stereo,” Erik answered, amending when Charles continued to look confused. “Motion sensor…”

  Yeah. _Motion Sensor._ Despite the HankSpy being currently inactive, he could practically feel the other judging him.

  “How about this? We have a proper outing, you and I,” said Erik. “You and me…just one evening. We can moderate the drink count if need be.”

   “I wouldn’t drink at all…if we were to go out,” said Charles, placing his hands on Erik’s chest where the other could feel his heart beating underneath.

  “Is that a yes?” Erik asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s a yes,” Charles nodded.” Tomorrow night sound good?”

  “It sounds perfect,” said Erik. He leaned down towards him, their cheeks brushing as Erik allowed him to hide his expression. “You know I hate to embarrass you further because I feel you might actually shift into a turtle and disappear if I do…”

  “Uh oh…,” Charles murmured.

  “But you almost kissed me last night…perhaps with this  _date_  I might be able to give you proper one.”

  “I…umm…,” Charles pulled back a few inches, his eyes drawn downward. “I…”

  Before Erik could finish his distraction, there was a vibration coming from his pocket. He sighed, stilling for a moment, and looking at Charles, hoping he had some semblance of willpower to just ignore it altogether. He released Charles briefly to take out his phone, eyeing the number on the screen. It was a text message in all caps.

   _Shaw._ Requesting an immediate callback.

  “Sorry…I have to take this,”

  “It’s okay…I should be going…but…tomorrow night,” said Charles, holding up a finger. "Meet me downstairs in the lobby around seven?"

  “I'll be there. Tomorrow night,” Erik confirmed, reluctantly watching him leave. Once the door closed behind him, Erik shut off the music and dialed Shaw’s number.

  He picked up after one ring. “You’re usually quicker than that, Erik.”

  “I’m usually less busy,” said Erik shortly. “I was in the middle of something. You have me on a mission, remember?”

  “I would not call you if it was not  **urgent**.”

  “What is this about?”

  In answer, the HankSpy began to rattle and Erik thought his ‘sidekick’ was waking up, but when it shot up, it hovered for a moment before the light within the lens turned bright red and began to project outward.

  “You have control of this thing?” 

  “Of course...I’m the one who encouraged Hank to build it,” said Shaw coolly. The image displayed distracted Erik from an offended train of thought regarding Shaw’s means to spy on him. 

  It was an image of a man in a long trenchcoat with a hat covering the top half of his face so only his smile was visible. 

  Erik’s face paled somewhat. “Jason.”

  “He doesn’t go by that anymore...at least not by our knowledge,” Shaw answered while another window popped up reading the name in capital letters “ **MASTERMIND** ”.

  “I thought he was dead,” Erik crossed his arms. “That’s what you told me.”

  “No, I told you his trail went cold when we went north. Now, he’s resurfaced and he’s requesting a meeting with a representative from our organization.”

  “And you think sending  _me_  is your best bet?” Erik scoffed. “Given my history with the man, I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

  “Jason Wyngarde is a master telepath, Erik. You know this. He can convince the weak minded to see psychic illusions on a colossal level. Unfortunately, we don’t have the means to combat this.”

  “You’re sending me for a  _few_ show signs of mental prowess, then? The man’s calling himself  _MASTERMIND n_ ow, Shaw. I daresay that means his power has increased.”

  “We don’t know that yet,” Shaw answered. “I’m sending you the location he’s requested. You’re to meet him tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow night?” Erik’s hostility melted momentarily to make way for a surge of panic. “...I...can’t tomorrow. I have...something to do. Send someone else. Send this HankThing. I’m sure it’ll fare better than me against a master telepath. He won't even see it. Maybe. Or he'll kill it. That's fine too.”

  “You’ve been given your orders, Erik,” It was irritating that every time Shaw’s tone rose, the red light behind the lens started to brighten. “I expect you to follow them.”

  For a long moment, Erik debated simply throwing the HankSpy and shutting Shaw up for good...but he knew Shaw...and he knew despite how outspoken he was with the man, there was no crossing him... **Not** without facing dire consequences. 

  “...I’ll be there. Send me the location when you can.”


	8. Checkmate

   The call with Shaw left Erik with a sinking feeling. Of all the times to take on this mission. But Shaw wouldn’t present Jason’s case to him if he didn’t think he could handle it.  There was…history there. Shaw knew that. Erik tried not to think about it…any of it. 

 And yet the sudden feel of steel plating binding his wrist came back. The feel of a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard enough that nails dug in to keep him in place. He felt the sharp sting of the needle as it pierced his arm and the black ink that was left, forever marked into his skin. 

  Erik pulled his sleeve back to look at the digits for himself. It was faded somewhat with numerous attempts to have it removed once he left training. 

 **214782**.

The memories shrouding it were better left in the dark recesses of his mind. Even if he wanted to remember all of it, he couldn’t…and perhaps that was his own mind playing tricks on him or perhaps it was a result of his training.

  But going back now…taking on this mission posed a risk somehow to what he was doing here. 

  As if on cue, his phone buzzed  and he made a face at the number that appeared before connecting the call, already heading back to his room to begin throwing things into a duffel bag that he had just unloaded a few days prior. 

   “Raven,” Erik greeted in a gruff tone. “Long time no talk. I’m guessing Shaw’s been keeping you busy since we separated.”

   “Erik,” Raven responded, equally sharp. “…I heard about your mission.”

  “Let me guess, you heard it from Hank? I’m really hoping that thing has lost battery. Perfect excuse for me to throw it out the window.”

   “Doesn’t matter how I heard it.”

   “ Word travels fast around there.”

   “Erik,” said Raven. “ I can’t talk long on this.. I don’t know if our phone calls are being recorded. That’s why I’m outside.”

  “You’re…what? Physically…” Erik trailed off to head towards the window, pushing the curtain aside to look at the black car situated on the street where he could see the other mutant standing outside…and of course. Not in her form. 

  It was a man with black hair and sunglasses waving up at him with that smile that only Raven could pass off.

  “…You can’t be here. You were with me the last time we got in contact with Char…with my mark. He shot you. He’ll recognize you in a heartbeat.”

  “I’m not using my natural form, as you can see,” said Raven, gesturing to herself and adjusting the collar of the suit she was wearing. The imprinted look she had on right now looked like a member of secret service.

  “But using your own speaking voice....It doesn't matter, he can read your mind. And he’s done it before.”

   “I don’t plan on making the trip upstairs, Erik. I’m a safe distance away. Just hurry up and pack so you can come down here,” Raven snapped.

   Erik sighed hard and disconnected the call. There was something rough in the way he stuffed his duffel bag now. Now, even if his loft was broken into and ransacked, there wouldn’t be a shred of evidence against him. Not of his true occupation anyway.

  The last to be placed into the deepest part of the bag was Hank’s device and then Erik was out the door. 

  He planned on going straight to the elevator, but the sight of Charles’s closed door stopped him. He already knew that tomorrow was not going to happen, but it felt…wrong to just stand him up. 

  It was for that that Erik turned back into his loft and scrawled a quick note on his counter before slipping it under Charles’s door. It was admittedly…kind of lame to leave a note like this instead of a phone call…but he had little time. And hopefully, his judgement of Charles’s character was sound. Perhaps he wouldn’t take it personally.

 He met Raven on the street corner with a quick onceover to their surroundings. Charles’s car was missing, so she was in clear, for now.

  “ We need-“

  “We’ll talk on the move,” Raven interrupted him; using the deeper voice now of the from she had taken. She moved to the other side of the black car and opened the door for him, gesturing towards the seat like she was about to drive with royalty.

  “Fine,” said Erik, climbing inside. He heard a shifting sound and sure enough as soon as he looked at Raven, she was in her preferred form with blonde hair, immediately scanning herself in the rear view mirror.

  “You _really_ shouldn’t be doing that around here.”

  “Calm down, Erik. No one’s looking at us. They just think you’re some wealthy tycoon who has his own driver,” She grinned over at him as she moved them onto the main road. “That is your pretense here, is it not?”

  “Not exactly,”

  “How is this  _personal_ mission of yours going anyway? Has the detective made any mention of shooting me in the leg? Because I’m still feeling a little raw about it,”

  “He hasn’t mentioned it,”

  “Has he mentioned you? Well…hunted you. Not…fake you,”

  “Here and there, so far,” Erik answered. “He’s got…nothing substantial yet. Just speculation.”

  “What’s the speculation?” Raven’s eyebrows furrowed, the amusement draining from her face.

  Erik had never lied to her before. Withheld certain truths on occasion, yes. But he had never directly lied.

  “He thinks we’re mutants,”

  Raven was silent for a long moment. “That’s a step in the wrong direction.”

  “The right for him,”

  “He’s a telepath, Erik. Maybe not strong enough now, but eventually…he’ll get there. And once he does, it won’t take long to break down…whatever you have in your mind holding him back. Shaw’s taking a big risk by sending you.”

  “He’d be taking a big risk by sending  _anyone._ ” 

  “Yes, because you had to pull the  **morality card**  and say that he was a good man. If you hadn’t, then we’d just take him out and move our operation out of the city,” Raven snapped.

  Erik opened his mouth to retort, but paused briefly, eying her expression. Whether it really was about the bullet wound Charles inflicted or not, she really was raw about the situation as a whole.

  “We hardly target our own kind…or spill innocent blood. Any form of law enforcement is usually paid off or too foolish to give a second glance. We still didn’t kill them…and we’re not going to start _now_. Somehow I get the impression that the detective wouldn’t take a pay off, anyway.”

  “Yes, because of the morality thing. I hope you know what you’re doing, Erik,” said Raven.

  “Now you sound like Hank,” Erik remarked irritably.

  “No…any chastising from Hank would be because the organization is under pressure. I’m chastising because I’m concerned for you. I told you…there’s a big risk…and in case this goes south…in case your position is compromised…I don’t want…,”

  Raven closed her eyes for a moment too long. “I don’t want to have to be on the frontline with you on the other side, Erik. Shaw won’t take any chances. If he deems you as a threat, as a rogue, you’ll get taken down…you’ll be a priority target, just like Emma.”

  “It hasn’t come to that,” said Erik.

  “Then tell me,” Raven implored him. “Tell me you’re doing  _something_ at least to disrupt this investigation. That’s all you need to do to get in and out.”

  “I’m working on it,” Erik’s tone became sharp once more. “To the best of my ability. I need a little more time. I think Shaw gets that idea. This isn’t something done overnight. Right now I’m in an…observatory stage.”

  “An observatory stage,” Raven repeated.

  “That’s what I said,”

  “Right.”

  “ _Anyway_ ,” said Erik harshly. “…I trust you can fill me on this mission a little more?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Is this…really Jason?”

  “Shaw seems to think so,”

 “…Dammit,” Erik leaned forward, his hands covering his face.

  “Don’t you start that,” Raven said reproachfully, watching him. “Don’t you start self-depreciating on me. This isn’t on you. Nothing Jason has done…is on you.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better, but thanks for trying,” Erik muttered, rubbing his eyes.

  He remained that way for a long time, eventually settling on leaning back in the seat and staring out the window. Raven had decided to take the scenic and longer route, so the day passed them by with no stops. He didn’t even bother requesting a stop, simply dreading what was to come when the night hit.

  Before Raven even turned the corner to their destination, Erik heard the pounding bass and he felt an increased sense of annoyance when the neon pink lighting shone over their faces and they were looking at the establishment name written in spiky letters. ‘ **PULSE** ’.

  “I just got here and I **_already_** hate this place,” said Erik.

  She laughed at his response. “Take it easy, Erik. This is an in-and-out mission. We just need to see what he wants. There’s no reason this has to go badly.”

  “…Of all the places to hold this meeting. I think he deliberately wants us not to hear a word he says. That causes a miscommunication and before long, we’re at war with a crazed telepath,”

  “Stop being so pessimistic. You’re dealing with enough mindreaders. Trust me when I say I hope this goes as well as Shaw hopes. If anything, maybe you can convince Mastermind to come back to us.”

  Erik threw her a cold look. “Don’t call him **that.** Don’t give  _power_ to that ridiculous nickname.”

 “Whatever,” Raven rolled her eyes. “Let’s just get this over with…and remember, Erik…mind your temper. Be civil. We’re not here for a fight.”

  “I honestly do not see this going any other way.”

  He stared out the window at the growing line and was more than thankful when she turned the car down an alley and parked the car in the darkness. As soon as they were out, Erik and her went to the trunk and pulled out his bag to place his mask securely over his face with Raven doing the same beside him. They both dawned the cloak as well, each securing the weapons they had hidden.

  “In and out,” Erik repeated with one look at her, his voice coming out slightly muffled.

  “In and out,” She answered.

  Raven led him to a back door under the cover of darkness. She knocked three times before a slit open at the top and a pair of eyes peered down at them for a long moment. The slit closed and there were several locks being pushed before the door slid open and they were faced with a tall man in jeans and a black t-shirt. He didn’t seem at all surprised at their presence or appearance, simply moving aside to let them in.

  One finger rose to his black earpiece. “They’re here.”

  He waited for a moment before nodding briefly. “You can go up. The private lounge is up the steps.”

  “Thank you…,” Erik muttered before following his lead. Here he could barely hear the sound of the music and was relieved to know that the conversation wasn’t going to be surrounded by people. If this went badly, the less casualties, the better.

  Part of Erik was actually hoping it all turned out to be a hoax as he reached the top step…that Jason stood them up and they had to turn back around and forget all this. Shaw would be irritated, but that wasn’t anything new.

  But he wasn’t so lucky when he found them in a darkened room and at the very back there was only source of light over a booth. A man in a grey suit and a red-haired woman in a long black dress occupied either side of Jason who Erik recognized immediately. He looked as he had when Shaw displayed him through the HankSpy. He was wearing a black felt hat with an indented crown with a thin white trim, the upper half of his face was hooded as he faced down. The black suit with long thin white lines was different from what Erik was used to seeing him in, assassins' attire like his own. It was an unusual compilation...fit for mourning. His posture was one of complete relaxation, slouching almost on the couch with one arm hanging over the seat.

  Except now he got a closer look at him and Erik took in everything that had changed in the last few years. When Jason had escaped their organization, he took more than a few hits on the way out. There was now a prominent dark scar on his right cheek, dealt by a blade. Somehow it looked even more noticeable here. His face had become a little more gaunt, sunken as though he was malnourished. Erik didn’t know why…but as soon as he saw Jason…he started to feel something prickle at the back of his head like a light rap of fingertips.

  Yet there was no mistaking that wide smile he gave Erik and Raven when he saw them approaching.

  “I was wondering if you’d come…Please…sit,” Jason gestured to the seat in front of them.

  When they moved, Jason held up a quick hand, his dark eyes hard on Raven. “When I was told of this meeting, I was told I was only going to be meeting you, Erik.”

  Erik stiffened a little. “…She’s here as a spectator, Jason. Nothing more.”

  “She’s your **partner**. And while I respect the organization and its new ‘rule of two’ method…that won’t work for a private meeting. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  “Unfortunately,” Raven began coldly. “You’re not in _any_ position to dictate the rules here, Jason. He stays. I stay.”

   "Oh, you haven't changed a bit, Raven," said Jason fondly, chuckling to himself, untouched by her anger. "Still so quick to the trigger. And still so fond of the..." 

   His eyes raked over her hair. "...blonde."

   Ever since they were children, Erik, Jason...Emma...they all had encouraged her to stay in her natural blue form. To blend in, she took on the blonde, blue-eyed look and it became habit for her to stay in that form even when she was around people who knew her true self.

   Much to Jason's _obvious_ distaste. 

   "You know I prefer red on you," Jason told her, taking a sip of his drink.

   "Luckily, I don't give a damn what you think," Raven snapped.

  “Raven,” Erik turned his head ever so slightly towards her. “…It’s fine. Go downstairs. This won’t take long.”

  “Erik..,”

  “Please,”

  She dawdled for a moment, throwing a cutting look at Jason one last time before leaving them. At the same time, Jason made a careless gesture at his guests and they followed suit.

  Even then Erik didn’t want to sit down, determined to own up to what he said and keep this short. He didn’t want to be here…and Jason didn’t have to be an extinguished psychic to know or feel that vibe coming from him.

  Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have been thinking of it, given Jason’s next words.

  “So tense. Sit down, Erik. It’s been years. I promise you won’t come to any harm as long as the two of us are having our conversation.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I  _don’t_ believe you,” said Erik, slowly lowering into his seat and leaning forward to keep Jason at the center of his vision. “ Last I heard, you took down three of our members.”

  Granted, the three were mercenary...and **human** , so not like Erik was mourning too heavily over the loss.

  “Regrettable casualties. But as you know, the organization is quick to penalize and dispatch of those who even have a shred of independent thought spoken against them,” said Jason, reaching towards the table to retrieve his drink.

  Erik answered. “There must be rules in any organization to function. I may not agree with Shaw...on _many_ of his decisions...but we do what we have to do to the ones who break the rules.”  

 “Communities don’t **flourish** under dictatorship. They regress,” Jason argued.

  “You’re being dramatic,”

  “Maybe,” Jason shrugged. “Or _you’re_ being ignorant. Given our current standing, I doubt you’ll see things _my_ way.”

  “Then what is the point of _this_?” Erik asked impatiently, gesturing between them. “Why call this meeting? Dancing in front of the organization like bait? It’s not like you.”

  Over the rim of Jason’s glass, his eyes gleamed, the hint of a smile forming. “You know, Erik. I was hoping they would send you. Of all the people Shaw has at his disposal…I was really hoping he’d send **you** to meet me. Do you know why?"

   Jason paused for an answer and Erik slowly shook his head. "I can _guess_ at Shaw’s motives behind it, of course. Perhaps he thinks our old friendship will sway me. Or perhaps he thinks my seeing you would appeal to my sentiment.”

  “That’s assuming I was sent here to recruit you back…and that’s a big assumption to make, Jason,” said Erik.

  “Erik…It **breaks** my heart to hear you talk like this. Every action has to be stamped with Shaw’s approval before you execute it. Is that lifestyle so rewarding? Is the money worth it? Is it worth letting go of everything you believed in?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Erik raised an eyebrow.

   “No…of course not. It would be too much to hope that your memory would remain intact.”

  Erik opened his mouth to reply, but closed it, confused. It was true; there had always been holes in his memory, stemming from childhood. He could attribute all of that to trauma and he was willing to accept that, overlook it even. But… _how_ Jason said it…and the look on his face hinted that he knew something he didn’t.

  Erik didn’t like that… _and he fell silent._

  “I have no problem with Shaw. I have no intention of disrupting his occupation in the city. So long as _he_ doesn’t interfere with my own. There’s a very special individual inside New York…and until I find on them…I will not be leaving.”

  Erik knew how Jason operated. In the last few years there had been at least ten defectors and nearly all of them had vanished off the face of the earth. Jason had been reasonably tracked because he was the first…and because Erik had a stubborn mindset, making it a personal mission of his between jobs to find Jason and the ones he had taken with him.

   He was never successful. To find Jason in front of him right now of his own accord caused a pang of disappointment in Erik at his own skill.

   Erik knew without a doubt where the mutants that left had gone. Nobody just disappeared. 

  Whether they were still alive...was subjective. He had a bond with Emma for a long time. She too, was a powerful telepath. There was a camaraderie there that Erik couldn't fathom based on having powers that were similar.

  And there was no **doubt** what kind of person Jason was looking for now, why else stage this meeting like so and _hope_ it was Erik who met him. There was never a chance under the sun that this was going to go well or an arrangement of mutual benefit could be made. This was all a game to Jason...and there was no way that Erik was intended to walk out of here alive.

   Immediately, Erik’s mind went to a conclusion he had been hoping to avoid for the one he was in the city for…and Charles’s face flashed in his mind.

  "I know what you're looking for, Jason...There's no doubt. But there aren't any of your... _potentials_ here," Erik shrugged slightly, keeping his voice level.

  "Potentials...Come now...I could simply be sight seeing...You never know." Jason shrugged his shoulder dismissively.

  "...Not your style."

  "True...but slumming it in the city is not something you're known for either," Jason countered. 

  "I have contracts in the city. More than one. I'm not _slumming,_ " said Erik defensively, the very word offending him.

  "I've no doubt you do...but that doesn't mean you can't...overlook one," 

  "I'm afraid not," said Erik with a note of finality.

  A moment of silence stretched between them while Jason took another drink then placed his finger tips together, peering at Erik over them. He licked his teeth, expelling a small sigh of regret.

  "Be reasonable. It's a big city. I'm sure Shaw understands that," Jason answered him, eyebrows raised in skepticism. 

  "There's _other_ cities," said Erik.

  Though the truth was,  Jason was right. Shaw would understand this. If Shaw were in Erik's place, he would allow it with the promise of Jason leaving New York immediately after, if only to achieve a measure of peace. Jason posed an _enormous_ threat to his operations, and going against him head on would be suicide. Shaw knew that...and Erik knew that too.

  Yet he was no longer speaking for Shaw in his argument.

  Jason stared at him for a long moment, his hand raised as he traced his lower lip, seemingly thinking on it. "...That's true, there are. So many. You know...I said the word 'find'....but let's just say this person... _called_ to me. Not intentionally...but this can't be helped when it's out of your **control**. I mean you can imagine that, of course, Erik. _We_ went through it. Your mind is constantly focused on someone...or something....you don't even realize you're projecting something...massive."

  "Perhaps it's a mind thing," said Erik, smiling politely from behind the mask. He raised two fingers and tapped his temple.

   Jason clicked his tongue in bemusement. "Maybe. But I have to be sure...don't I? Regardless, Erik...I don't plan on leaving until my business is concluded."

  “That's not like you..,” Erik scoffed. 

  "How so?"

  "You've always liked your theatrics," Erik replied, tilting his head in remembrance of just how showy the man used to be when they were younger. He was the one keeping them up at night with shadow puppet shows.

    But then he also remembered the night Jason left them and Erik's eyes narrowed. "You always have. You wouldn't have left us... the way you did. "

    "Huh," Jason scoffed. "You actually sound a little sad when you say that. Do I detect a sliver of emotion, Erik? Are you saying you  _missed_ me all these years?"

   "No, Jason. I'm saying this because I loved you."

   Silence settled between them and Erik's words hung between them like a dead weight. The assassin didn't sound like he hesitated for a moment in saying it, the careless word that spoke volumes. _Love_ was not something the organization recognized. It was something that shouldn't exist at all in their spectrum. Never let yourself be tied down by an insidious emotional attachment that could get you killed.

  Yet the way Erik said it...Jason knew that he meant it.  No matter what memories he chose to bury, the fire that once existed between them still had an echo inside Erik.

   "I know you did," Jason spoke steadily, breaking eye contact with Erik's burning gaze to face the ground.

  Erik spoke after a few minutes, his voice quiet. "I can't let you occupy the city while I'm in it,  Jason."

  Jason’s eyes flickered back to him, the cracked mask slipping completely and true **regret** settling on his features. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry you feel this way...and I'm ** _sorry_**...for what's about to happen."

  The light prickling on the back of Erik’s head changed, pressing inward, radiating a pain all the way to his temples which began to throb. Erik groaned, grabbing a hold of his forehead with both hands. He could feel himself falling, crumbling in on himself and his knees hit the floor like the carpet had suddenly changed. Everything about him felt heavy. Black spots began appearing in the corners of his vision and he could see it begin to throb, growing bigger with every second. He couldn't close them...for surely he would go blind. 

   Inward, he saw himself. A man alone, hands covering his ears in the darkness. Outlines of white came around him, the walls in his mind taking physical representation. He could see them start to  _crack_.

  “Such a strong mind…You’ve always had a strong mind, Erik. I’ve always admired it. Cherished it, even. I knew your vision…and more than anything, I wanted to see it come to fruition.  Make no mistake, old friend and heed me. There are many things I am willing to overlook…but I will never **forgive** Sebastian Shaw for this.”

  “Jason…Stop…,”

  “All this effort you spend maintaining these… _WALLS_ ,” The last word from Jason boomed in Erik’s mind, the frustrating note sending an echo that made him shudder.

  Erik felt the walls of his mind seem to push together, his head feeling like it was between two heavy walls, pressing in on both sides.  It was a sensation he felt before with Charles…except the effect was strengthened significantly. He had been able to fight off the invasion completely...but this... _This_....? The power of the darkness he felt as he was pulled back to reality was too much. It wouldn’t be long before his mind shut down completely and he wouldn't be in control at all. 

   “Jason..,”

   Jason had risen as well, towering over Erik’s form, watching him. “…You know what a **checkmate** is, Erik? Of course you do. You love chess. You know what I consider a checkmate in a situation like this? A checkmate would start with…”

  He broke off and before he could catch him, there was a sharp sting in Erik’s left side that caused him to cry out. He looked down to see a long dagger deep inside of him, blood pouring onto Jason’s hand.

  Reflexively, Erik reached up to take a hard grip of Jason’s shoulder to push him away, but the latter was too strong.

  They were cheek to cheek now, Jason pressing his lips to Erik’s ear. “Whomever you’re protecting…I will find them. I will. That is a **promise** you can believe in…I may not be able to get fully inside that mind…but I will. It only takes time.”

  He twisted the weapon causing Erik to jerk his body back, but Jason merely smiled and pulled the blade out, rising and taking a napkin from the nearby table to clean it off.

  “ And a **checkmate** …would end…with me stalling for time during this entire conversation, having made a call prior to your arrival. Could you guess who I called? Why the police over in the city! They were delighted to receive an anonymous tip on the location of the one behind the recent string of murders. Your occupation...your organization could only behind such a heinous deed like murder. No one wants a high crime rate, Erik. You’re getting sloppy. I wager you have…maybe five minutes before they barge through the front door? Provided you don’t…pass out first, of course.”

  “One more thing…it’s not Jason…It’s Mastermind. Our names **make** us who we are…Would you say so, _Magneto?_ ”

  Erik was left gasping, clutching his side as he began to fall forward, face flattening on the carpet where he could feel the pool of blood begin to form beneath him.

  “Sweet dreams.”

 


	9. Diamond in the Rough

   “Erik….Erik….wake up. Please…wake up.” 

  Raven’s voice came from a long distance. Erik could hear it but he was in no way inclined to wake up, opting completely out of facing the nights’ events. But he felt something hard grip his shoulder and turn him over. Hitting the hard carpet on his back caused a sharp stinging pain in his side.

  Oh. Right. He was stabbed. Automatically, his hand went to cover the wound but there was already a hand there applying pressure. Erik’s eyes slowly opened over Raven and the wave of annoying neon lights behind her swirled into place.

  He struggled to sit up and felt a hand grip his shoulder hard to keep him in place.

   “Ugh….where’s…Where’s Jason?” Erik asked, rubbing his temple where he felt it throb.

   “Gone,” Raven glanced over her shoulder as if to quickly affirm what she was saying. “…He disappeared. Did he do this to you?”

  “Yeah,” Erik let out a sharp breath, trying to push back against her hold.

   “Either way…we got bigger problems,” said Raven, moving a little to the side so the view was no longer obscured by her body. Erik saw for himself the bouncer who had let them in flat on his back, his throat slit and a puddle forming on the solid floor.

   “Did you –?” Raven began. 

   “No, of course not. You found me like this. Can you please…?” He gestured below to his injury. Raven caught herself and tore a long strip of her uniform to start tightening it around his waist, covering the wound and stifling the flow of blood before it started to bleed through the uniform. 

  “Cops are on their way,”

  “What?”

  “Jason called the cops. He tipped them off…about me. They think there’s a murderer on site.”

  “And there’s a body to prove there is,” said Raven, stepping away from Erik to approach the nearby window that had a view to the club below. A minute or so there and the front door opened and a man in a long black trench walked in. As Raven watched, he spoke to the man by the door, flashing his badge.

  “They’re already here. Really surprised they only sent  _one._  Blonde by the looks of him,” said Raven, coming back to Erik.

  “Sounds like Charles’s partner,” said Erik, taking hold of her shoulder and using her to support his stand. He approached the window for himself and saw the three cops approach the bar where the barkeeper pointed towards the upstairs, right at them.

  “It is,”

  “The telepath’s  _partner_  is here? Good timing. How about it, Erik? He shot me. Only fair that I get even.” She grinned up at him.

  “No,” said Erik firmly, taking a hold of his side when he was steady and visibly straining somewhat. “…This is a problem. His **presence**  is…a problem.”

  “No shit, “ said Raven, giving him a quick once-over. “You’re in no condition to fight.”

  Erik grimaced. “I can handle myself.”

  “Yeah, maybe when you walked in here,” Raven scoffed, coming up next to him and peering over his shoulder. “Aw…crap. They’re coming this way.”

  Erik let go of the blind he was holding and turned to her. “ I have a plan. We just need…a little time.”

* * *

   Well, the bartender was less than helpful, citing that as long as they had been there tonight, no one suspicious had walked in. Judging the bar patrons, Alex could assume they all looked suspect. This club was not far off from being a leather fetish club with how everyone was dressed…and how scantly they were dressed.

  Still, his eyes went to where he was directed, the lounge which connected to the back. This tip seemed too good to be true…and it was unfortunate that this was the night that Charles worked the early shift.

  Or maybe it was better he wasn’t here. Alex probably couldn’t take the ‘SEE I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG’ spiel that he would inevitably face.

  He was hoping…internally praying that this was a false alarm as he moved past the dancing patrons who parted ways halfway through when he took out his badge and flashed it all the way to the door which opened before he could knock.

  Alex was faced with a tall, black bouncer who stared down at him and looked reproachful at the badge in his hand.

  “Can I help you?” He asked, moving aside to let him into a small room with stairs leading up to their right.

  Alex eyed the nametag. “Yes…Desmond, is it? Alex Summers. I’m with the FBI. We received an anonymous tip that a person of interest was in the club. Your buddy out front said no one beyond the usual crowd was here. But he didn’t account for anyone let through the back. Has anyone come through here?”

  “Nope,” said Desmond. “The private lounge has been empty all night. You have to reserve it ahead of time.”

  “I imagine so,” Alex answered. “You mind if I take a look?”

  “No one has come through here,” said Desmond with a little more force.

  Alex smiled politely. “I’m aware of that. I’d still like to take a look.”

  “Uh…,” Desmond sputtered. “Don’t you…uh…..need a  **warrant** for that?”

  Alex paused. “…To enter the premises…yes. I’m already  _in_  the premises. Is there a problem, Desmond?”

    “  Not at all,” said Desmond, moving aside. “Go ahead and go up. But like I said…no one has been up there.”

  “Thank you,” said Alex, shuffling past and heading up the steps. Desmond didn’t follow, just waited for a moment as the detective went upstairs.

  The first thing Alex noticed when he reached the top step was that despite what Desmond had said, there was signs  that someone had been here already. There was a half drunk glass of alcohol sitting on one of the corner booths with a clearly touched napkin underneath it.

  As Alex drew closer, he was able to see a dark red spot on the napkin. He was quick to pull it from under the glass and see for himself. 

  The longer he looked, the more aware he became of what was in the booth next to this one. A small finger had remained partially in the scope of the pink neon lights.

  His heart skipped in his chest and he moved to inspect closer, kneeling down briefly. The man’s face….it was Desmond, on his front…and he looked exactly as he just had. Alex covered his mouth with a hand before turning the man fully over and seeing where the new puddle had come from. His throat had been slashed open. 

  Alex was to his feet and running back towards the door in a matter of seconds, drawing out his radio.

  “ This is Unit 403, Alex Summers. I need an ambulance at the Pulse club off the corner of tenth and Marks. We have a suspect that is on the move. Repeat, all units to Pulse.”

  He switched the button off, not listening to the affirming officers begin to tell him they were en route as he made for the back door which was barricaded by something large, probably a dumpster.

  The detective slammed his shoulder into the door, only opening it a crack before backing up to kick it down, the door barging open. His gun had already been drawn and held but it was too late. When Alex entered the alleyway, there was nothing there.

  “Damn it…Damn…Damn….,” Alex muttered, pulling out his cellphone and dialing Charles. “You have your radio on? Come to Pulse on tenth. There’s…a situation.”

* * *

  By the time Charles had arrived, the club had been closed off with yellow caution tape and all of the patrons had left. It was a crime scene now. Patrol cars surrounded the street, cutting it off from a crowd that had formed. 

  Charles pushed as gently as he could past them, coming from under the tape and entering the area. Pictures were being taken and as he stood there, he tried to get a read on every mind here.

_“ ….silence for months and now this is happening again..”_

_“…what a hell of a first night on this shift.”_

_“ Charles is gonna be pissed. That’s just a fact.”_

    The familiar voice called to him. It was easier as a telepath to hone in on Alex simply because he spent so long in his presence that his voice stood out. He climbed the stairs leading to the lounge and found his partner sitting at a booth alone, watching the body of the victim get zipped into a dark blue bag, his mouth covered by his palm.

  “Alex…What happened?”

  Alex was a long time answering, eyes closed. He was focusing on the images and Charles saw them with him. He was remembering the conversation with Desmond downstairs, the attitude the bouncer gave him about going upstairs…and then he remembered seeing the body, trying to work out how it made sense and coming to no conclusion.

  As Charles processed this, Alex waited, knowing his memories were being received by the other. Charles’s telepathy was hardly a secret between them, having seen it first hand with Charles answering thoughts sometimes rather than the spoken word. His secret had always been safe with him. Mutants were a myth to the general public but having witnessed Charles do what he did firsthand, it was hard to deny.

_I can’t wrap my head around this, Charles._

  “Which part?”

_All of it. I spoke to Desmond Thompson downstairs. Saw him in the flesh and blood…and then he’s upstairs dead in the next few minutes? Unless he had a twin…which the owner already said he didn’t have one…_

  Charles moved to approach the window where the curtains had now been pushed aside, surveying the below where there were a few officers talking to the employees. 

  “I don’t know, Alex.”

   “Perhaps I can be of some assistance with that.”

  Both Alex and Charles looked up to see Captain Stryker approach with a young blonde woman about their age in a white pantsuit. Her hair was put into a tight bun and she wore black glasses. In her arm, she held a blue folder to her body. Charles had seen her before, on very very rare occasions back at the station. She only ever spoke to the Captain in private meetings.

  “Captain,” Both Charles and Alex said.

  “Summers…Xavier. This is Deputy Director Emma Frost. She’s with the Department of Justice . She’ll be helping with your investigation into these murders going forward.”

  Charles raised an eyebrow, keeping his gaze on the Captain. “Since when was the Deputy Director of the FBI interested in a simple homicide?”

  He knew he was over the line in questioning the director’s appearance, but this didn’t seem right.

  “My understanding is this isn’t a simple homicide, Detective,” said Emma. “My understanding is that this is among a series of murders in recent months. Trust me, if this  _was_  a simple homicide…I would not be here.”

  Charles stared at her for a moment. A subtle scan of his mind told him nothing, which was  _alarming_. Like with the assassin he had encountered, her mind was too strong to read directly. 

  “Ms. Frost is going to aid in your investigation going forward. You’re to report all of your findings, and submit all of your existing evidence to her.”

  “Are we answering to the Deputy Director now?” Alex asked.

  “Regarding this case, yes,” said Stryker.

  It was then that Charles noticed something, his head tilting in some  _confusion._ There was something wrong with the Captain. His words dragged somewhat, slowed. He wasn’t drunk, his thoughts would be harder to read. There was not usually a  **cohesive** bond from mind to mouth. What you thought could have come out differently.

    It happened all the time.

  With the captain, there seemed to be that bond. Whatever he was thinking came out. It felt like a thinking that had been forced on him…a strange automated process.

  “Keep me on the loop if anything happens.” 

  The Captain left them then, all of them watching as he disappeared.

  Emma was smiling at the two of them. “I’m sure we’ll get along. We want to achieve the same endgame: to  _stop_  this criminal from taking any more lives.”

  “I’m still just…,” Charles struggled to find the word. “…baffled at your involvement. The Deputy Director, really?”

  Emma just shrugged off his skepticism. “…Involvement is necessary when murder happens at the behest of a  **mutant.** ”

  The single word had them drop any pretension over surprise. Charles tilted his head again at her.

  “At the behest of a  _what_ , excuse me?”

  “Detective Summers,” Emma looked away from Charles, blue eyes sharp on Alex. “Your statement to the officers is that you spoke to Desmond at the bottom of the stairs and then you found his body upstairs. An impossibility. Normally, this would result in a psych evaluation but I’m sure even the camera footage, if we pulled it, would check out. Don’t you agree?”

  “…Ye…yeah, I guess.”

   “Your Captain doesn’t believe in the existence of mutants, so he says. But his authority is nothing on mine. The Department believes this is a great threat. Whoever this is…they won’t stop. And they have to be stopped. At any cost. We’ve frequently dealt with detaining people of their…” Emma paused, scoffing slightly. “ kind.”

  She went on. “As your Captain said, I’m keeping you on board for this investigation. Together, we’re going to find and neutralize this threat before it becomes bigger.”

  “You’re going to kill him…or her…That’s not how we operate,” said Charles. Realizing he was stepping over the line again, Charles quickly added. “…typically.”

  “Your division doesn’t  ** _operate_**  this way, but I do. You’re free to leave, detectives. Both of you. Drop this case entirely on us. We’ll handle it as we see fit. I can find someone else. I just prefer to keep people with…experience on the threat.”

  “We’re in,” Charles said before Alex could say a word.

  “Good. Now head home. Tomorrow, bring everything you have on your investigation. I’ll meet you at the station at 9:00 sharp.”


	10. Between Truth and Lies

 “All right, you two. I need an explanation…and I hope you two have a **good** one for what the hell I’m dealing with here.” Shaw’s voice brokered no room for argument. His face was stern over interlocked fingers as he stared at the two before him. 

  It was still nighttime, the morning sun just barely starting to turn cloudy skies orange.  Erik looked paler than death and his hands were covered with Desmond’s blood from moving him by damp clothing. The occasional hiss had left him from Hank’s work by his side, undershirt half lifted across his torso so that the other man could focus on stitching the wound.

  Raven sat next to him, her expression fatigued. She had donned no imprinted human now, finally in her natural blue form. Her hands raised and she ran her fingers through long red hair.

   "It happened as you wanted, Shaw. Up until negotiations fell through,“ said Erik. " _Jason_ isn’t up for a negotiation. He wants the organization out of his way for…whatever business he has in the city.”

 Shaw was silent for a long time. “…Nothing is impossible, Erik. Did you even try to negotiate with him?”

   "He wasn’t  **willing**  to compromise,“ Erik answered. "He had Raven dismissed and long story short, I ended up stabbed and left for dead. If she hadn’t come back for me, you’d have two bodies in Pulse.”

  “Don’t be ignorant, boy. He wanted to frame you. No doubt he already has. And no doubt of course, you’re on camera entering the club and leaving afterwards. This wasn’t supposed to go this way, Erik. It was supposed to be clean. In and out,” Shaw’s eyes narrowed. “…and you couldn’t even do that.”

  “What makes you think this is my fault?” Erik snapped, moving forward and nearly popping the last stitch that Hank had been working on. He winced, eyes tightening.

“You’re talking about a madman. There is no reasoning with someone like him. This is a game to him, it always has been. Let him think he’s winning. It might make him easier to catch.”

  “Be that as it may,” Shaw replied sharply. “…There’s no way I’m sending youagain. You’ve opened the organization up to a greater risk.”

  “Nothing has been compromised on our end, Shaw. Even if they have me on camera, my face was covered, they have no facial recognition and even the blood I left won’t match anyone they have in their database. We’re fine. Let me take care of this. I can finish him before he becomes a bigger problem.”

   “Erik, listen to yourself,” Raven pinched the crease between her forehead. “You were going to bleed out on that carpet. You’re not _ready_ to go out there and face Mastermin-”

  “Don’t use that  **damned**  name,” Erik snapped.

   “Jason. You’re not ready to face Jason again,” Raven amended irritably.

  “She’s right, Erik,” Shaw shook his head. “ The worst case scenario in my mind was that you walked out of there unscathed and probably annoyed that you wouldn’t receive compensation. Now look what’s happened. The bureau won’t need whatever case your telepath mark is building against you. They’ll be scouring the city looking for a man walking around at night in a black mask.”

  Erik placed his elbows on his knees, reaching up with both hands to press his fingers into his eyes, rubbing them. Lack of sleep was currently not helping his situation. He was exhausted, and his side was aching with pain, which only fueled his annoyance.

  “I can do this…just let me do it my way…No negotiation. I can take him out.”

   "Erik,“ Shaw growled. “I’ve given you enough free reign. You’ve been a valuable asset. But you put more than yourself at risk going back. Think of Raven. Think of Hank. Your friends. You’ve grown to like them, have you not?”

  “ _Tolerate_ ,” Erik corrected stiffly

   “Thanks so much, Erik. You're a real treat too,” said Hank, scowling.

   ” I don’t fault Erik for what happened in there, Shaw,“ Raven cut in. "We did what we had to do to get out of there alive. But as much as I strongly disagree with sending him back…Erik can guard against telepathic invasion. He can get close to Jason without being compromised. We…don’t have another agent who can do that.”

  “He obviously can’t guard against it very well if he managed to inflict injury on him,” said Shaw, pulling open a drawer and lighting a cigarette between his lips, keeping a keen gaze on Erik. “….Tell me, Erik. Did he get in?”

  Erik rubbed his lower lip, knowing what Shaw meant. Just the question made him feel a ghost of the sensation he felt when Jason had him isolated in his own mind, away from reality, starting to press in on the walls around him, splintering them. Through the cracks, he could see the light..and he knew…he simply knew that if the light overtook him, that his mind would be lost to him, completely at the mercy of the invader.

  “No,” said Erik steadily after a long moment. “He tried. I felt that…but he didn’t get through.”

  Shaw was silent, tapping his fingers on the desk and weighing his options in his head. Realizing that he had no choice, he sighed.

  “Fine. Take care of him, Erik. You have my permission to neutralize any threat in your way to Jason.   _Including that detective_. At this point, you’re better off killing him to keep him out of your way.”

  Erik’s jaw clenched at the irony of the statement. Jason was here for Charles, no doubt. And though Shaw didn’t know that it was Charles Jason was after…he was right. It would be easier to just take Charles out before Jason could get to him. That would certainly lure him out of hiding once again.

  “I’ll take care of it,” was all Erik said, getting up just as Hank laid gauze and a bandage over his wound. The way the blade had twisted, the stitches were not straight and could break easily with any movement.

 Raven followed him out while Hank lingered behind, Shaw watching them all the way. Shaw waited until their footsteps were far beyond before addressing Hank.

  “Tell me, Hank…You’ve worked with Erik in the field. Where’s his mind, right now?”

  “What do you mean?” Hank asked, wiping his hands of blood with a towel.

  Shaw turned his back to him and approached the window. “Is he going to be a problem?”

  They had always butt heads, Hank knew. Erik was exceptional in the field, but he was quick to question the logic behind orders and he had no problem telling Shaw about it.

  “I think he’s headstrong. Stubborn. Always has been. He’s eager to prove himself as the best. A mission like this going wrong…bothers him. He’d want to make it right,” said Hank. “…I don’t think you have to worry about him, Shaw.”

  “Hmm,” Shaw mused. “This might be the first time I regret not having Emma on hand.”

  “Really?”

   “ She could break his mind like a twig and tell me everything. It’s a setback…being in the unknown.”

  “Perhaps it’s better that way,” Hank told him. “The mind should be the safest place anyone has. It’s…a bit immoral, wouldn’t you say? To just…invade it as you please.”

  Shaw smirked and turned away, giving Hank a chiding look. “Immorality goes out of the window…when we, as a people are at risk.” 

____________

  Raven was practically biting her lip when they got out, and Erik knew it was only a matter of time before she just blurted it out.

  “Spit it out…I’m not in the mood,” said Erik irritably.

   Raven scowled. “I just want to know why you didn’t mention that your telepath’s partner showed up to the party.”

  “It wasn’t relevant,” Erik remarked.

  Raven stepped faster and stood in front of him to block his path. “ What happened in there after I left? What did Jason and you discuss? I’m starting to get the impression that you’re  **protecting** him.”

  “Who.”

   “Don’t play dumb _. You know who._  You’re taking the mission against Jason so you can hold off on your objective with the agent,” said Raven.

  “That’s a bold assumption,”

  “But is it far off from the truth?”

   Erik licked his teeth, a grim smile spreading across his lips. “I’m taking the mission against Jason because it’s unfinished business. Once that’s concluded…I’ll go back to what I was doing.”

  “Shaw’s right, Erik. It’s just easier to get him out of the picture at this point…. ** _Kill. Him.”_**

   “I don’t care what Shaw says. You need to learn that. Sometimes his orders aren’t what’s best for the rest of us,” Erik deadpanned.

  Raven could just stare at him. Erik always had a smart mouth when it came to Shaw and because of his experience, because of his tenure here, it was let go. She never really heard him say outright that it was okay to disobey orders. Especially since the penalty of doing so was being on the opposite end: a mark.

  “That doesn’t sound right, Erik,”

   “It’s the truth, whether you accept it or not. Now, if you’ll excuse me…,” said Erik, sidestepping her and continuing on his path.

  “You can’t do this alone, Erik. You could barely do it last night,”

   Erik turned around briefly, walking backwards. “I’ll be fine. Hang back here. I’m sure Shaw has something you can do.”

   She scowled at him again, rolling her eyes but he was already turning around, leaning heavily on his side.

* * *

   Charles was used to waking up early, but when he woke up in the morning this time for the meeting with the Deputy Director, he wasn’t inclined to get up faster. It’s true, he should have probably been working to impress her…but there was still something off about her that he couldn’t quite place.

  Perhaps it was the fact that he couldn’t read her as easily as he could others.  It was wrong to not trust someone just because they had a strong mind, but he had no other method that he leaned so heavily. He had adapted to simply reading thoughts to learn intentions. It was why he did so well as a detective. It was not just a reliance on the training at the academy.

 Something stopped him as he exited his loft and was left staring at the door of Erik’s. He had gotten the note. It was pretty dismissive.  After a promise of a date, just like that it was cancelled. Charles had been left wondering if the man lost interest. But so quickly…? Well, he must have had his reasons.

  He did the cheating thing and tried to read the mind behind the door…but there was nothing echoing back at him. Erik wasn’t home. 

   Then, before the elevator stopped on their floor, he heard it.

_I hate elevators. Why don’t they post a warning sign of what to do in the event that an elevator gets stuck? Why don’t they post what’ll happen if the elevator decides to become sentient and fall to ground zero at six thousand miles per hour? You know what would make an elevator better? Windows. Not windows to the outside. To the inside. Why do fancy hotels get that and we don’t?_

  The door dinged and Charles was already coming forward to see Erik as he leaned heavily against the opening door.

   “Erik.”

   “Charles,” Erik greeted him, gripping the edge of the door tight. Charles didn’t notice the strain in Erik’s walk, the heavy breaths that left him. Erik was forcing his stride to appear normal, forcing his mouth shut, teeth clenched tightly. Each step from his wounded step caused a shooting pain up his body. Adrenaline must have killed the full extent of the pain he should have felt when the wound was first inflicted.

   There was a bit of tension. Erik had sort of stood him up. He didn’t want to…if he had it his way, last night would have gone much better.  Charles began to kick at his foot a bit. A nervous habit.

   “I know…you’re probably busy…on your way to work?” Erik asked, not expecting an answer. “…and you probably don’t really want to talk to me…and that’s fine, I understand. But I want you to hear me out. I wasn’t…trying to stand you up yesterday night. Something came up. I was going to ca-”

  Charles held up his hands, trying to silence his apology. “It’s okay. I had something come up too.”

  Erik smiled, relieved at the ease of his response, but they fell back into that awkward silence with both of them trying very hard not to look at the other.

  Charles was the one to break the silence this time. “…Listen, I don’t have to go into work for another few hours. First thing I’m doing is heading into a meeting too. Do you want to maybe catch some breakfast??”

  Erik paused in deliberation. It was true that every minute that he delayed was a minute not tracking Jason. But Shaw had all but put a hit on Charles already, and whether he wanted to be or not, he was involved.

  “Sure,” said Erik, turning around towards the elevator once more.

  But he didn’t hear Charles following him. Looking back, he saw the other man approach the stairwell. He fought a small smile before taking a few steps towards him.

  “Thank you…for taking the stairs,”

   “No problem.”

  Ten minutes later they were seated at a small booth in a diner, both ordering just a coffee for now. Erik’s mind was going in a million places at once, trying to focus. Fatigue made it harder to maintain the mental blocks, and he could practically see Raven disapproving of his decision to keep going.

  Not that insomnia would be the only thing she’d fault him right this second.

   Looking at Charles, he could see that the other man didn’t look much better than him.  There were dark circles under his eyes and even his hair looked slightly unkempt like he had not managed to comb down all of the strands that stuck out in the night.

  “You look like hell, Charles. Have you been sleeping?”

  “I’ve gotten as much as I could…with what’s…happening,” Charles gestured around his head almost tiredly.

  “Has something  _else_  happened?” Erik asked innocently.

   “Yeah…last night…Can’t say much about it,” said Charles, glancing up at the other man quickly. “but…yeah. Someone else.”

  “Part of that case you’ve been working on?”

  “That’s what we think,” Charles set down his mug and ran a single hand through his hair, trying fruitlessly to catch the strays again, but then his hand gripped down and he pulled on the locks.

  “This…wouldn’t have happened if I had been more careful,” Charles continued.

   “You can’t blame yourself for what others do, Charles. For all you know, it could have been someone else,” said Erik calmly.

   “We’re going to look over everything today…including footage from the crime site…and then I’ll know…what happened….but you know. This was an innocent bystander as far as we can see. It doesn’t match up to the MO of who we’ve been tracking. Unless he pissed off the wrong people, but even then? How does that justify it?”

  “You’re saying it was justified before? So then it was a vigilante?”

   “No…,” Charles answered slowly. “….A vigilante who kills is no vigilante. They’re just a killer. A vigilante likes to _justify_  themselves with saying they do what the law enforcement can’t do. I don’t think that’s what’s happening.”

  Erik leaned back in his seat. “…You know…I don’t think anyone can convince you to drop this investigation, Charles. I’ve tried before...telling you that you  might get hurt. You told me it’d be worth it. You still believe that?”

  Charles took another sip of his coffee. “ Of course. Someone will always be there to pick up the pieces of where you left off.”

  “And if the killing continues? If they’re…never caught? What about if...something happens to _you?_ ”

   “If it was to come to that…,” said Charles, gesturing at Erik with a nearly empty mug. “and I was to die…then I would  _hope_ …that it doesn’t end that way. That…they’re found…and justice is served. Dying…trying to protect this city, trying to protect people, it’s what we have to do.  Death? It’s a risk you take, but it’s worth it.”

  Erik wanted to argue the point…because he didn’t believe a life lost for the sake of others was worth it. It was completely and utterly pointless. Life was all you really had here, why throw it away for others?

  His expression was thoughtful as he twirled his mug in his hands. “…You’re very good, Charles.”

  Reaching forward, Erik’s knuckles brushed under his cheek as Charles had done to him once before.

  “The world needs people like you, to protect it. I agree with that...but maybe I’m a little selfish. And maybe I think  _you_ need to be as well,  **just this once.**  And let it go. Protect  _yourself_.... for once.”

  He was pleading with him now. Erik had tried before, and then it was just removing him from the investigation so he could save him death. But now...it wasn’t about that. Knowing what Charles would face if he ended up under Jason’s control was too much for Erik to face. It wouldn’t be Charles anymore. It would be a lifeless puppet, lost in his own mind forever. Perhaps a telepath had a better chance surviving...but Erik didn’t want to risk that chance.

  Just looking at him, it was difficult to stop himself from saying it all. He wanted Charles to get out of New York while he still could, start somewhere else. But it would be too much...Only the assassin could tell him, and the assassin was supposed to have neutralized his status a threat by now. 

  It was screwed up in twelve different ways...but there was nothing to do but try, even if it  _was_ futile.

  All this, Erik knew...was because _liked_ Charles. He liked the good man he was seeing. The one willing to sacrifice everything. It wasn’t to win awards or be honored and respected. He saw him at his birthday party, heard from his own lips that he was mocked for this case, ridiculed and scorned.

  And all the while, people were dying and there wasn’t anything he could do. He could not get inside the assasins’ mind, shut him down like he could another. 

  It was what made the assassin **necessary** , what made the mask necessary. But Erik didn’t want it. He would rather have met Charles differently. No masks. He would rather throw the objective aside completely. There was something about simply  _being_  in Charles’s presence. Something warm. Perhaps it was a residual psychic energy the telepath was projecting, he didn’t know. 

  There was a loss he felt for what could be.

  Charles looked back at him for the longest time before leaning into the touch, his eyes closed and expression becoming slightly pained. “I  **can’t**...I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did that.”

  Erik nodded to himself, confirming his own inner assumption. “I know.”

   The detective met his gaze again, eyebrows coming together in some frustration. He shook slightly, watching and tracking Erik’s hand as it left him and settled on the table. Charles placed his over Erik.

  “...I can’t...see...,” The words didn’t make sense and Charles pursed his lips, keeping his eyes fixated on their hands, his voice coming out more steady. “There’s something I have to tell you...about me.”

  He let out a deep breath, taking Erik’s hand in a tight grip, fingers gripping his palm.

   “It’s not something I’ve told a lot of people. Most would probably start running,” Charles chuckled nervously, his hand tightening on Erik’s almost as if he was scared the other would choose now to pull away.

   Erik wished he could stop him right then. He knew. Of course he knew. Perhaps it was better he couldn't read Erik's mind all the way. He even thought about sharing his thought with Charles...but it was a big step for the detective to trust someone with this information. 

   It felt...wrong to receive this information as the persona he created just for Charles. It felt wrong because he had found out about it in a way he could never tell Charles. At least not now.

  It felt wrong to be this potential... _something_ in Charles's life, but weaved in the form of a lie. 

  “Charles...stop. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me now. I can-”

  “No, “ said Charles firmly. “I want to say it. I want you to know. I want...”

  Charles finally looked up to meet Erik’s gaze. “There’s something about you. From the moment I saw you. I felt something... _connect._  I don’t...know how to explain it. I guess the only way is to just...tell you...”

   Erik opened his mouth to protest again, but he just opened his mouth and closed it, his head shaking. 

  “I can read minds...I’ve been able to do it since I was a child,” Charles went on. “I’ve probably been able to scrape by with just that. School was easy...friends weren’t easy to keep, let alone any.... interested parties.”

  “But I just wanted you to know...this. I wanted to get it off the table. You don’t have to believe me, not many would.”

  “I believe you,” Erik said without hesitation. He rearranged their hands so that their fingers were interlocking. “I do. I mean...there's stories all over the world about them. People with gifts.”

  “Thank you...It felt  _good_ , to say it. Finally,” Charles gave a small smile. 

   “Good....Though...out of curiosity...what can you read from me?” Erik asked.

   “You want me to read your mind?”

   Erik shrugged, pulling his hand back and setting it on his lap. “Why not. I want to see if you’re right.”

  “Hmm...Okay,’ Charles shrugged too and began to focus.

   Charles narrowed his eyes a little at him, squinting. It took a moment, but then Erik felt himself return to that shadow place that Jason has took him to before. The place where he saw himself from afar, surrounded by dark walls. Erik felt a sharp jab at his mental barriers and refrained from physically wincing. Charles’s presence was felt like a freezing cold wind.

   His subconscious mind _immediately_  identified him as a threat to supplement the mental illusion.

  Charles leaned back, slightly frustrated. “Nothing...I can’t read anything from you right now. I've heard you before. It comes in..bits and pieces. ..I can’t hear them like right this second. But I can _feel_... your emotions.” 

  Erik blinked, rattled. That was  _new._

   “The emotions behind your thoughts. I can feel those. Kind of distantly...like there’s some sort of...,” Charles focused again and this time the jab Erik felt was much more forceful. He rapidly blinked and Charles pulled away from his mind, the unearthly presence leaving Erik. “Sorry... _Sorry_...Wasn’t trying to do that.”

  Erik placed a hand over his chest, his heartbeat skyrocketing as though he had been pulled from drowning. “It’s...fine. I was only curious.”

  Charles’s face buried in his hands. “I’m sorry. You must think that was really...unusual. I’m really...really sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” Erik mumbled.

   Charles was stronger than he could have  _ever_ imagined. What just happened was nearly at the level that Jason tried to attack with. And that was with **malicious** intent and most of his strength.  

  And Charles was simply brushing his mind then. If he wanted to, he could tear his mind apart. It was true, he had felt the detective try to invade his mind before, even without his mask on...but this was different. He could feel that Charles was not even trying his hardest...and that's what alarmed him.

  He was holding back. With him. With the assassin. He had the potential to break him and anyone he encountered. He had conditioned himself not to push that far, to not even make the attempt. 

   “I’m sure you’re having second thoughts,” said Charles, watching him apprehensively.

   Erik took a moment to catch his breath, staring at the edge of the table before his head tilted and he looked to Charles again, lips pulling back for a faint, reassuring smile.

  “Not at all. I’m glad you told me. Really...I am... Come on...I’ll drive you to the station before you’re late.”

  “All right.”

 


	11. The Hellfire Club

 It wasn’t a long drive to take Charles to the station, but Erik avoided saying anything until they were close enough to the facility.  His mind was in a million places at once…but most of all he was dreading what was going to happen in that building today. He didn’t know how much data was recovered by the FBI…how much they knew or could assume.

  “Hopefully you’ll reach a big breakthrough today,” said Erik, holding the wheel with the hand not on his wounded side. 

   “Yeah I’m hoping it’ll be productive…well more so than usual…there’s been some developments,” Charles smiled sheepishly. “ Can’t really get into it, but you know.”

  “I know,” Erik mused, his hand tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he made a sharper turn than necessary and aggravated his stitches just a bit. “…Well, be careful, Charles. I mean it.”

  He stopped the car in front of the entrance to the building.

   “I will be. I always am,” said Charles, beginning to exit. He seemed surprised when Erik exited the car as well and met him on the other side.

  “Whoever’s doing this….maybe they deserve what’s coming to them…but they might run clean up soon. It might not be a long shot to assume that you could become a target as well…just for your investigation,” Erik told him.

  He already was a target. Jason’s target… _His_ target.  But it was important to him that Charles understood the danger he was putting himself in.

  “I’ll be fine,” Charles assured him, reaching out to grip Erik’s shoulder. “Really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  Erik’s eyebrows furrowed, frustration settling in as he shook his head. “While there’s a killer on the loose, that’s a tall order.”

  “I can take care of it…I…,” Charles fell silent for a moment, putting a bit more strength to his voice. “ I  _will_  take care of it.”

  Erik reached up and touched his cheek again, just searching his expression. For once, he wished he had the detective’s power. He would use it now, remove the memory of his case, and Erik entirely. It would be the best thing he could do without causing him any further pain. He would move from this city, never to be seen again, never to be tracked again. 

  And he would be as he was, apart from Charles’s life forever. Alone…until time or someone else destroyed him.

  But it couldn’t be that way. It was too late now. Charles’s investigation into  _him_  had brought Jason to this city. If he hadn’t been trying to pry into the assassin’s mind, he would have never unconsciously reached out to Jason.

  “I’m sorry,” Erik whispered.

  For all of it, he was sorry. For all the pain this man had to endure, the loss in seeing the bodies left behind by the assassin that perpetuated the notion that he couldn’t save them. He was sorry for bringing Jason to this city…sorry that he was hurting him now, even though Charles didn’t know it, just by standing here with him.

  And if it came to death in his next encounter with Jason…he was sorry that this could be one of the last times Charles had to see him. With lies standing between them…and the looming presence of the organization which would surely send another to take care of the job much quicker than he ever could.  He was sorry that that future meant he couldn’t protect him. He pressed his forehead against Charles’s. He was a good man….and he didn’t deserve this.

  As he leaned down, their lips met and Erik tried to convey all of his thoughts in the simple act. Yet it couldn’t be done. 

    He had never felt  **remorse**  for anything. 

    All the lives he had taken, he had never even given them a second thought. He had always been told from the very beginning that these were rotten individuals that needed to be removed. He believed it without doubt.

  Now he felt regret settle in…because anything that happened to Charles was on him now.

  When they pulled apart, Charles opened his eyes and stared at the other man.

   “…Well, then,”

   “Sorry…that was probably out of line…,” Erik muttered, realizing he was apologizing yet again.

   “No…You don’t have to be sorry,” said Charles, reaching up to cup his cheek in turn. “It’s all right.”

  Erik opened his mouth to respond but just then, a teal car pulled up next to his and Alex waved from the window.

  “Hey! No PDA in front of a federal building! It’s illegal!”

   “No it’s not. It’s illegal to  _loiter_  in front of it!” Charles shouted back.

   “Then write yourself a ticket!” Alex cackled before speeding off to find a parking spot.

  Charles laughed a little and turned back to Erik. “. My…partner. You met him before.”

   “ Yeah, I guess you have to go “

   “..Yeah.”

   “It’s all right,” Erik answered, stepping back from Charles, his hands dropping. “Don’t sweat it. I’m home today and tonight. I’ll pick you up later? Text me when you’re off.“

  “I will. Don’t get mad if my text wakes you up. I might be late.” said Charles.

   “You won’t. See you then.”

  Before Charles could enter the building, he heard heels approaching and looked to his side where Emma stopped just short of a few feet wearing a long white coat over a white pantsuit.

  “Good morning, Detective,” Emma greeted him.

   “Good morning, Director,” said Charles.

   “I trust you rested well?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I very much anticipate a productive day. You can step away, Detective. We won’t be working through your office here.”

  “What…? Well…I didn’t…drive…,” said Charles uncertainly.

  “Your partner’s already been informed,” said Emma, pointing towards Alex’s car, back lights still on.

  Charles grumbled slightly before heading off in the direction of Alex’s car. The passenger door was unlocked and he climbed in.

  “Is she serious? A new building?” Charles asked. “This is a little unorthodox for the director isn’t it? The station should be a perfect place for her to set up everything.”

  “I don’t know,” said Alex, shrugging. “She said to follow her.”

   “I have a bad feeling about this,” said Charles.

   “Famous last words.”

   While the route was still within Manhattan, following Emma’s white Acura proved to be a bit of a challenge, just because of how she behaved on the road. She cut other people without a second thought, barely squeezing in..and most of all, to Charles’s great annoyance, she hardly ever turned on her indicator lights  on to signal a move.

  “This woman…,” Charles murmured as Alex fell behind the red light yet again.

  “…gives not a single fuck? Yeah, I noticed…,” said Alex. “I’m about to lose her…”

  Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. He managed to follow a correct assumption with a left turn, finding a huge set of three buildings close together, shaped like sharp shards. The stone sign called it the “Diamond Towers”. Charles had read about it recently. It was in the news because the height of the buildings rivaled Trump Tower.

  Alex followed the Acura into a nearby garage, parking right next to her and getting out.

   “This is a very prestigious building. Are we moving here?”

   “Eventually, Detective…I daresay you’ll enjoy your time here for the remainder of your investigation,” said Emma, leading the way to the entrance.

   Of course everything within the place had a white diamond theme.  There was something familiar about the statue in the middle of the lobby. It was a woman in a long robe with a deep neckline, her hands above her head holding a large diamond.

   “This place…,” Charles muttered, eying the receptionist who watched them all the way. He quickly scanned her mind and found nothing out of the ordinary, just thoughts of her job and a date she had planned after work. Either way, he felt an unusual vibe about the place.

   Then again, everything about this circumstance was unusual. The Deputy Director’s involvement either meant this situation was much more serious than he originally thought. Her thoughts were illusive…and that should have been another red flag for him.

  Erik had provided a decent distraction from any anxiety he might have had over this meeting, but now it was creeping back on him. He didn’t know what to expect in this building…he didn’t know how much Director Frost knew…and he didn’t know what to expect when they reached their destination. For others (like his partner) this might create a sense of excitement. For Charles, it created a sense of foreboding.

  Emma led them to the twelfth floor where they passed another receptionist with black hair gave them a nod. She took them to a private boardroom with ten chairs. The walls were covered in documents. So much so that Charles was reminded of his study at home, except magnified by ten.

  There was even a map that had different colored flags on it, except this was a broader map over the whole state and had much more red flags on it. Could it be that the assassin had gone to all these places and he had really missed them? Or was this over a longer period of time?  More pictures, less blurry than his own, but still just as unclear.

  “Have a seat,” said Emma, gesturing to two chairs in the back that were facing a projector screen. “Sage. Hit the lights.”

   “Yes, Director Frost,” A cool female voice replied.

    “Oh wow…you have a computer AI? Is it like a fully fledged AI or is it like a virtual intelligence? Is there like a holographic body that she’s currently occup-“

  “Sage is my receptionist,” Emma interrupted, nodding towards the door where the black-haired receptionist waved at them through the glass part before returning to her computer.

  “Oh…,” Alex murmured. “That’s….just as cool, I guess.”

  A few seconds later, the lights in the room dimmed and the projector was switched on to reveal a blank white screen. Emma approached a nearby laptop and began clicking away in silence for a minute.

  “First things first…We’re going to review the acquired footage from the cameras at Pulse…and see what we can examine from it,” said Emma.

  Charles leaned forward in his seat as the blank screen changed to display a very dark alleyway. The footage was already bad quality he could see, like it was still running on VHS. Several lines kept going through the screen, yet for the moment the alleyway was empty aside from a few green dumpsters.

  Then the black car pulled up and Charles felt himself tense. The two that exited the car…a man and a woman…just like the two that Alex and Charles and staked out a week ago.

  Yet there was no way to identify their faces in the darkness. They were two dark blurs that were heading behind their car and putting on their attire. From what Charles could see, they were dressed as normal civilians before the uniforms came on.

  He didn’t know why he found that a little…unsettling. Of course he shouldn’t be surprised at all with killers on the run that they dressed like civilians. It just burned his blood a little to know they were walking the streets casually like this. The regret he had for not trying  _harder_ to arrest the assassin when last he saw him was mounting.

  “Don’t we have a camera _inside_  Pulse?” said Alex as he watched the two figures enter through the back door.

  “Unfortunately, no. There’s a camera out front and one in the back,” said Emma.

  “ These are the two people that we encountered awhile back. You remember, Charles,” said Alex.

  “I remember,” said Charles.

  Emma was forwarding through the footage. “Yes. I heard about that. You weren’t able to catch them, though one of you…Detective Xavier? You were able to stop one and proceeded to chase the other on foot, correct?”

  “And I chased the girl,” Alex chipped in. “But she was too fast. Never saw someone run like that with an injured leg…but she did. Didn’t get a good look at her face.”

  “You’re not going to be able to catch these people the traditional way,” Emma told him. “These people don’t follow rules…their methods are different…so naturally we have to follow suit to the best of our own abilities.”

  She played the footage as the door to Pulse opened and the two figures reemerged. This time, both individuals were clearly male by the size…and when they passed through the neon lights coming from the door, Emma paused the footage.

  “Here we go,” She said, approaching the screen and taking a long rod to point at the larger man.

  “Now we see here…This is Desmond Thompson. He’s carrying one of the suspects into their vehicle. We can surmise this is minutes after speaking to you, Detective Summers. Who you saw here was not Desmond Thompson at all…but in fact…the woman who walked in with the other suspect.”

  Emma removed the rod from the screen. “The woman in question is a mutant with the ability to metamorph. She can change her physical appearance at will to anyone at any time.”

  “So she’s like a reptile,” said Alex.

   “Alex, no,” said Charles.

   “A chameleon.”

   “Alex,” Charles snapped.

    “Fine fine…,”

    “The other one,” Emma began a little more sternly. “ has the power of magnetism. The full extent of his range…his abilities…is currently unknown. Though given the chance, he could do some  **serious**  damage…He already has, as you know, Detective Xavier.”

  Charles shifted in his seat. “What do you mean?”

  “Surely, you’ve encountered this individual?” Emma clicked a button, and the next slide had a completely different picture. This looked more like a mugshot of the assassin himself, his eyebrows furrowed, face up to his eyes and head covered by a hood as it usually was. It was the clearest image he had ever seen of the assassin and he had to wonder how Director Frost acquired it.

  “Yes,” said Charles slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I have…but only twice. That one time he chased me…and another time…He told me to drop my investigation.”

  “So our suspicions are true. The suspect is aware that the bureau is investigating him,” said Emma slowly.

  “It felt more like a warning. He told me I’d make enemies by investigating into the case further,”

  “Don’t fool yourself, Detective. These assassins don’t spare anyone, let alone law enforcement….because they don’t follow rules to begin with. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

  “You seem to know a lot about them,” said Alex.

   Emma dismissively waved her hand and the image of the assassin was gone, the lights turning back on. “We’ve been tracking them for years…and I mean that…years. They don’t **settle**  in one place very long. They move, and leave nothing behind. Like a shadow organization…just… gone. Like they were never there to begin with.”

  “And what makes you think they’ll sit still now?” Alex asked.

   Emma turned to him slowly. “They won’t. Whatever business they have in New York…will be concluded faster now that they know the bureau is investigating them. They slid out a warning, that was the first step. Any further investigation…and they’ll disappear. We want to stop that from happening. This is the **closest** we’ve gotten and we should use this to our advantage.”

  Charles felt a twinge of unease. “How are we going to do that?”

   “There’s a benefit in honor of Hells Kitchen’s newest savior. You may have heard of him, Wilson Fisk,”

   “Oh great,” said Alex. “The one they’re calling Kingpin on the streets?”

   “There isn’t hard evidence against Fisk just yet and we’ll leave the investigation up to the department in Hells Kitchen,” said Emma coolly.

  “Leave it to the masked vigilante after him, more like,” Alex muttered under his breath.

  “Anyway…You may have heard of a dock incident that happened a few days ago. One of Fisk’s shipments – nothing illegal, simply an export of clothing as far as we could see was destroyed. We managed to beat the detectives to the crime scene and uncovered this.”

  She reached into her inner jacket pocket and slid a photo down towards the two detectives. Charles picked it up first. It was a photo of a card left on top of charred boxes. The card had a red background and the H letter in Old English.  Through the H, there was a pitchfork.

  “What the hell does this mean?” Alex turned the card over as if expecting something else.

   “It’s a calling card and a warning,” said Emma. “ I believe there's a legend surrounding it. A few centuries ago, a small village was burnt to the ground near London, and only one child survived….he said everyone was killed and the five who survived left him alive to send a message to the Royal Family.”

   "What was the message?" Alex asked.

   "When the storm cleared, there would only be Hellfire."

  “Hellfire…,” Charles mused.

    "They wanted to keep the Royal Family away from their dealings, and the slaughter was their way of...sending a message," Emma shrugged. “Who knows if they’ve found a better name for themselves since then. But this is their symbol. These cards are always sent as a warning before one of them makes the kill.”

  Charles took the card from Alex, turning it over in his hands, memorizing the symbol. His eyebrows creased in frustration before he looked back up at Emma. “Do we know anything else about this organization?”

   “Given the story I told you. We know they’ve been active for many years. Centuries, perhaps.” Emma explained. 

  “Jesus,” said Alex. “Are you serious? So they’re kind of like a cult.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” said Emma.

   “So what do you want us to do at this benefit?” Charles asked, returning them back to the objective. 

  “Fisk is aware of the hit…we’re going to offer our protection,” said Emma. “It’s inevitable that Hellfire Club will want to finish the job…and we need to have our people there when they do.”

  “We’re going to use this man as bait?” Charles asked, surprised.

   Emma glowered at him. “What other choice do we have, detective? This is the only lead we have to close this case once and for all. Were you not  _listening_ when I said that they disappear without a trace? You want to wait for that to happen? Every second we waste, the closer that eventuality comes. Wilson Fisk hasn’t been seen in public since the incident. Despite any security precautions he’s taken for this benefit, it will not be **enough**  to stop whoever is coming for him.”

   Charles fell silent under her stare. He placed an elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose, aware more than ever of Alex staring at him. The young man was looking to him for guidance, for perhaps an argument…or a way to speak for both of them as he often did.

  “When is this benefit?”

   “Tonight,” 

   “So you want us to approach Fisk at his place of residence and-” Charles began.

   “No…I want  _you_ to approach Fisk. You alone,” said Emma.

   “Hold up, I’m not coming with him?” Alex asked, outraged. “I’m the one who-”

   “Failed to stop them last time,” Emma finished coolly.

   Alex scowled. “He needs me to watch his back. What if these two… _assassins_ show up?”

  Emma rolled her eyes at him, flashing him a dismissive look. “The chances of an attack when so many people are in attendance are very low. Detective Xavier will not be in any danger. Once we have Fisk under FBI protection, we can wait for an attack at closer quarters.”

  “Charles, tell her,” Alex urged him.

   “It’s all right. I can handle this alone,” said Charles. It was only fair. He started this mess, and it was better if Alex was kept out of danger as much as possible. He was just a kid. 

  “Give me your phone number,” said Emma. “I’ll text you the address. I shouldn’t have to say this, Detective…but no is **not**  an acceptable answer. We need Fisk to agree to FBI protection. We need to stress that he’s in danger otherwise. The man’s pride _shouldn’t_ be an obstacle.”

   “I understand,” said Charles a little stiffly.

   “Good…We’ll review for now and cut out early so you have time to prepare,”

* * *

  The moment Erik stepped foot in his loft, he stopped his pretension of trying to walk normal and flattened on the couch. Just the mere stretch of his upper body caused a shooting pain up his side. Damn Jason. He tried not to focus on the pain, to focus on anything else…

 Thinking of Charles helped…and what he did. Maybe he had been too forward. He didn’t know what prompted the kiss…yet touching his own lip, he didn’t feel regret.

 He didn’t know what this was. He didn’t know why just being around Charles…brought something out of him. It was usually so easy for him to lie, and he did so often when he had to for infiltration missions…but being with the detective…all he could do was fight the instinct to spill the truth about it all.

 It was actually kind of irritating. This was such an unusual situation. He had heard it before…of course. He had seen many of the others in the organization talk about their kills, and sometimes with great regret. Erik prided himself on never forming his own attachments. Marks were marks and he never questioned what they did to come up on the hit list.

  Yet this was different…and if this was…what he thought it was….then there was really no other option on what to do.

  Erik mulled over these thoughts as he went to the bathroom to take a closer look at his wound, gently peeling off the bandage Hank had placed at an awkward angle. From the stitches, there were now several black veiny lines crowding around the skin.

  They had been right….he shouldn’t have been undertaking any kind of mission while injured, but his stubborn mindset remained, even now. Jason had to be stopped.

  He held off on contacting Hank even though the earpiece was sitting on his counter top. No, all he wanted to do was rest right now. He staggered towards his bedroom, happy to forego the pretension with Charles of walking normally.

  For the next few hours, he was oblivious to his phone, even as it vibrated with consecutive text messages. One with a high value contract…and a second affirming that it had been accepted.


	12. The Benefit

   _Knock Knock Knock_

  Erik was already irritated as he opened his eyes, immediately squinting. When he first collapsed on the bed, it was barely noon, and now the afternoon sunlight was pouring in. He got up without thinking and immediately pressed a hand to his side where sweat had dampened his t-shirt. At least he hoped it was sweat.  He checked his phone for the time and saw several unread texts from Shaw. They were mass texts sent to everyone.

  So a contract had been sent on Wilson Fisk. The Kingpin himself. The next text was a confirmation that the contract had been taken by someone else, a number he didn't recognize had greenlit the operation.

  _Knock Knock Knock_

  "Time to get a silent doorbell. Coming! Hold on!" Erik shouted from the other end of the loft before he carefully stood up. Must have been Hank. 

  He was still rubbing his eye when he unlocked the door and leaned heavily against the doorway. His eyes widened in some surprise when he realized it wasn't Hank but Charles standing there.

   "Hey," 

   "Hey...," Charles eyed him up and down, taking in the disheveled appearance, but mostly the red and white stripped pajamas and red slippers. "...Nice PJs."

  "Yeah...I love red," Target loves red. Hank just was a terrible sidekick. He opened the door a little wider to let him through. "Come in...I'll fix up some coffee."

  "Thanks," Charles walked inside, slipping off his long coat. " I actually don't have a whole lot of time. Well not to spend here...anyway..."

  "Yeah I was gonna pick you up, I thought," said Erik.

   "Yeah no, I got a ride from my partner, it's all good," said Charles, nodding. 

   Erik placed his hands on his hips, nodding. He shuffled awkwardly for a moment. "Oh right...Coffee.."

   He headed towards the kitchen as Charles walked further inside and leaned against the counter top. "None for me, thanks."

  "All right," Erik yawned before placing the kettle on the stove. "So...what's the rush?"

  "I have to work tonight. Well..kind of. I'm going to a thing...like a benefit thing? Kind of like that. It's been a long time since I've had to go to one of them...but yeah this is for work," Charles explained, realizing he sounded slightly irritated. "It's kind of why I'm here. I was wondering if you'd...want to come with me."

  Erik crossed his arms. "To a benefit? Where you donate and stuff?"

  Charles chuckled. "I don't think you'll have to donate anything. "

   "Yeah but what if I'm not a big fan of the bureau? With the exception of one, of course" Erik asked, flashing Charles a crooked smile.

  "Hahah...It's actually not for the Bureau," said Charles as Erik turned his back and began to pour himself a cup. "...I don't know if you heard anything about what happened at the docks in Hells Kitchen? One of Wilson Fisk's shipments got hijacked...and destroyed. He hasn't been seen in the public eye for a while. This is his first time out and about to gather support from the people of the city since it happened."

  Erik's hand froze on the handle of the kettle, his grip shaking just a bit before he finished what he was doing, trying his best to look indifferent over his shoulder. "....Oh, really? Destroyed? No...I hadn't heard."

   _Of course he heard._  He was the one who destroyed it. That was before Charles became a problem and before he settled here as Erik the 'Pest Control' Specialist. Fisk had his fingers deep in the police department, so they looked the other way to his dealings...and a lot saw him as a rising hero to help clean up crime. He was not stopping the problem, he was perpetuating it. 

  "Yeah," said Charles. "so...I'm going to go speak with him. Just to you know...offer protection."

  Erik turned around, taking a sip and eyeing Charles over the rim of the mug. "You think this has something to do with the case you've been working on?"

  Charles shrugged. "Could be. Not sure yet."

  Erik squinted a little at him. He was lying. It wasn't that he was bad at lying and Erik could just tell, it was actually a good expression he had on his face. But Erik had excellent hearing and he could hear the spike in his heartbeat at Erik's question.

  Regardless, Wilson Fisk was a mark. And whoever took the contract could strike tonight...and that put Charles at risk.

   "...You honestly think a person like Wilson Fisk needs protection? Wouldn't be surprised if he's wearing a bullet proof vest at all times. Even at dandy parties," said Erik.

  Charles licked his lower lip. "...It doesn't mean he shouldn't be helped."

   "Hmm...," Erik scoffed. If Charles knew the truth, he wondered if he'd still be saying that. Probably so. He seemed to strive to see the best in people. The reason Fisk was on their list was because he had associations with a rival organization of theirs that called themselves the Hand. 

  Erik finished his coffee and came to the other side. "I'll go with you."

 Charles sighed in relief. "Oh, good...I was hoping you'd say yes. I didn't want to go in there alone. I mean my partner wasn't allowed...but she didn't say anything about a date."

  "She?" Erik tilted his head and racking his brain. "New Captain?"

  "Kind of...," Charles shrugged again. "Anyway...I'm going to go...get ready, all right? Meet you in the hall in about an hour?"

  "Sure thing," 

  Charles nodded up at him, giving a small smile before he leaned in and wrapped his arms around the other man's torso, hugging him.

  "Thanks...for agreeing to this. It may not mean much to you...but it does to me...I hate crowds...especially on account of my...psychic thing, you know."

  Erik was taken aback by the gesture, stiffening for a moment and remaining motionless before he willed himself to relax and reciprocate the gesture, gently rubbing his back. It was...nice. Charles felt so warm, flush against him where he could feel his heart beat against his own. Strange...he couldn't remember the last time he had ever been held like this.

  "Really...thanks," Charles murmured against his chest, lingering for a moment longer. 

   "...Of course...You don't have to thank me for something like this," said Erik, body shaking a little with amusement.

  "Still," 

  Charles pulled away from him and Erik reluctantly let him go as the detective gave a sheepish smile before walking towards the door.

   "See you in a bit,"

    "See you,"

   Erik followed him to the door, smiling slightly before closing it behind him and leaning against the wood, stilling for a long moment. He touched over his chest where the warmth lingered. 

 He collected himself and took out his cellphone, walking far from the door, all the way to his bedroom on the other side of the loft while he dialed Shaw’s number.

  As soon as the call connected, he spoke. “Who was assigned to the Kingpin contract?”

   “That’s a terrible way to greet someone. Learn some tact,” Shaw answered, amused on the other end.

   “I’m not playing games with you,” said Erik sharply. “Who did you assign?”

  “You know, Erik if you wanted a cut of the profits, you should have accepted the contract. I assumed you wouldn’t anyway since you’re supposed to be tracking Mastermind,”

  “Jason,” Erik corrected automatically, pacing a line through the bedroom. “I’m working on that. In the meanwhile, I need you to tell me who you sent to take out Fisk.”

  “Erik…,” Shaw began in a tone of forced calm. “You’re injured. Perhaps it’s better you sit this one out. I have someone taking care of it. Why don’t you get some rest?”

  “I’m rested. I feel fine,” said Erik, cringing as a sharp turn in his pace caused a shooting pain up his side to prove his words completely false.

   “ _Be that as it may_ , the contract is already spoken for. You let me worry about Fisk. You take care of what you requested.”

  “Shaw,” It was Erik’s turn to try to remain polite. “…Give me the name.”

   The ruse didn’t work for Shaw, who chuckled. “Calm down, Erik. There will be more contracts in the future just as big or bigger than this.”

   _Click_  

“Hate you….hate you the most,” said Erik into the blank screen before he clicked it back on and dialed another number. “Hank. I need you to come here as soon as possible. Bring your first aid-kit. The big one. Fifteen minutes.”

   “You know the best way to reach me is probably by using the HankSpy! Make use of it, man!”

  “FIFTEEN MINUTES,” said Erik again, extending the same courtesy Shaw extended him by hanging up before the other could say another word.

   Meanwhile Erik stepped into the shower, and he knew he would still be in there when Hank entered, hearing as the door was unlocked and the younger man stepped inside.

   When Erik came out with just a towel around his waist, Hank scowled, setting down a white bag of supplies and approaching him.

  “Jeez man. I think you’re supposed to wear the bandage when showering with fresh stitches are put in, you'll break one.”

   “That’s why I called you here,” said Erik, disappearing into his bedroom and putting on some boxer shorts to preserve some modesty.

  “You could use the HankSpy if you want me to call you out on bad decisions,” said Hank.

  “If you keep endorsing your pet, I’m going to put it in the oven on high,” Erik threatened him.

   “Whatever. Sit down. Let me take a look,” Hank waited for Erik to oblige him on the couch before grabbing the bag and setting down next to him.

  “Do you know who took the contract on Kingpin?” Erik asked while the other worked.

   “I thought you would have done it,” Hank told him as Erik winced from the touch of alcohol. “But I guess you missed your opportunity.”

  “Something like that,” said Erik.

  “I didn’t recognize the number,” Hank admitted.

   “Neither did I, damn it,” Erik snapped.

   “What’s it to you? You want a cut of the profit?”

   “No…There’s a benefit tonight….and I think Fisk is going to be hit,” said Erik.

  “You missed out. No big deal,” said Hank. “There’s other contracts.”

   “Charles is going to the benefit,” Erik replied. “ In the interest of protecting my mark, I can’t have someone trying to attack Fisk at this party.”

  Hank stopped what he was doing in putting a fresh bandage and gauze over the stiches to stare at Erik. “….’In the interest of protecting your mark’ Is that what you’re saying these days?”

  “This is a mark for Fisk…it has nothing to do with the detective,” said Erik.

  “And yet he’s going. I’m guessing he has business with Fisk,” said Hank, getting up and towering over Erik just so that he could cross his arms in that…judgmental way.

   “…He wants to offer him protection given one of his shipments was destroyed recently,” Erik told him. “and I’m going with him.”

   “Destroyed??? You mean the one  _yooooou_ blew up???” Hank asked, feigning innocence. “Gee…I wonder who’s giving that information out. Jeez, Erik. How close is this detective to unveiling everything?”

  “Close, but never close enough,” said Erik in a cryptic voice.

   “And you think that’ll last?”

   “No one ever said the game wasn’t dangerous,” said Erik, shrugging. Hank shook his head at him while placing white tape around his waist in several thick layers.

   “This should help you move better, but I’m pretty sure it was too early to start covering the wound like this. It's gonna be a very…very painful hassle to take off…and I think these things need oxygen,” said Hank, throwing up his hands when the other just stared at him. “I’m not a doctor, or a medic. I don’t even know why you called me instead of Raven. She could back you up in there.”

   “Her thoughts are too loud. He’d pick up on that. Plus I’m not one hundred percent sure she won’t try to harm Charles for shooting her,” said Erik.

  “Maybe it’s better that way. She wants to beat you to Mastermind,”

   “Jason,” Erik corrected.

   “Wait a second…You’re going with him, right? So he’s next door right now? He’s not even gone! Oh crap, he’s gonna read my mind, isn’t he? Hold on.” Hank placed his hands on his temples and closing his eyes in deep concentration.

   “He won’t hear you,” said Erik, getting up to go his bedroom and pulling out a suit and long jacket.

  Hank followed him in.  “How can you be sure?” 

   Erik slipped on some dress pants and looked towards the door. “….He’s probably cleaning something for the fourth or fifth time. He always cleans when he’s nervous.”

   Hank was a long time answering. “Really. And how would  _you_  know that?”

  “I’ve woken up to a loud and old vacuum cleaner going off at three in the morning before,” said Erik. “I can hear it now.”

   Hank eyed the fond smile on Erik’s face with a masked expression before turning towards the door. “ Use my device there if you can. I’ve made some software modifications to it. I think you’ll like the upgrades.”

   “I’ll think about it,”

  Erik dressed quickly, choosing to wear a black dress shirt rather than white, placing a long black overcoat over it as well. It was easier this way to hide his uniform underneath.

  True to the agreed time, he met Charles outside of their lofts, leaning against the door as Charles came out. He too was wearing a suit, but it wasn’t a tuxedo. It was not unlike what he usually wore, except the tie was dark blue instead of black and white. His hair had been combed back as well.

  He still looked the part of the Detective. He looked back at Erik smiling.

   “I like it…the coat too. I should have gotten mine too. I heard there’s a thunderstorm coming this way. Maybe I should….,” Charles trailed off, pressing a finger to his lips. “One second…”

  Charles went back in, finding a long black coat similar to Erik’s in his room and coming back out, still straightening it out. Erik was coming out from his door too, holding a long white scarf.

  “I had something to complete your…outfit too,” said Erik, coming close and wrapping the scarf around Charles’s neck, tucking it beneath his collar so that it blended in.

  Charles touched the soft material, holding it up between them. “This is silk? I can’t wear this, Erik. It’s much too expensive.”

   “Why not?” Erik questioned, straightening the collar out. “…It looks better on you.”

  “But this is  _silk,_ ” Charles pointed out adamantly.

   “It is…and silk looks good on you,” Erik answered.

   “Erik…”

   “Trust me…,” Erik took a light hold of his collar and leaned in to press his lips to Charles’s cheek, lingering there. “…It looks good on you.”

  Charles chased him as Erik began to pull away, catching his lower lip gently between his teeth before deepening the kiss, taking handfuls of Erik’s coat to pull him closer before a hand roamed downward, palm sliding over the bandage underneath cloth, gripping his hip.

  Erik pulled away from him then as a stinging sensation ran up his body. It took everything to not make a sound from it, settling only a loud sharp intake of breath.

  “Sorry...,” said Charles. “ Are you all right?”

   “I’m fine...,” Erik inhaled and exhaled for a moment, collecting himself before he smiled at Charles. “Come on…We’re going to be late.”

  “Are you…sure?”

  “I’m fine…Come on,”

   “Okay, but we’re taking my car this time,” Charles told him as they headed for the stairs.

   The ride there was mostly silent up until they were a few blocks away then Charles turned grimly to Erik.

  “So you know my business with Mr. Fisk. There is going to be a time where I might have to leave you to speak with him alone. I understand that he likes to keep to himself,”

  A private audience to have Charles escorted out quietly or threatened. Fisk was attacked and a man like him didn’t take to threats. He had many agents sitting in the bureau and the police department, and they had let him down in making this whole situation quiet. His image to the underground crime syndicate was starting to wane.

  “I’m not leaving you alone with him,” said Erik in a firm voice. “…I’m not. I’ve…heard…rumors about Fisk. Disturbing rumors. You’re not going in for a private meeting without me.”

  “Erik…as a civilian, I can’t let you just interfere with this business with Fisk like that,”

  “A civilian date,” Erik corrected. “What’s the harm in that?”

   “We’ll see what happens,” said Charles.

   Fisk didn’t have this party at his own loft. No, he was too careful. He or his people had decided on renting out the largest banquet hall inside of a hotel. The entire floor including the lobby was theirs for the night. The Kingpin had spared no expense with security.

  Erik was already seeing several armed men in black suits standing near the doorway, double checking on invitations.

  He let Charles take the lead, falling slightly behind him so that he could scan the neighboring buildings. So far, he felt nothing, but that didn’t mean they were safe.

  Fisk wasn’t present yet, that much was evident when they were let in. There were several groups of people standing around in formal wear talking. None of them gave Erik or Charles a second look but even with soft music playing in the background, with several hotel employees walking around handing out drinks, the atmosphere of the party was off.

  People were on edge. He could guess that more than half of them knew about Fisk’s dark dealings but they didn’t care…because their hands were dirty too.

  It was about as out of place as Charles could be and Erik could visibly see that when he led Erik to a drink table in the corner and just kind of remained immobile.

  “What’s wrong?” Erik leaned into whisper.

  Charles shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. “I don’t like crowds.”

  “Spot of claustrophobia?” Erik asked.

   Charles blinked rapidly and looked towards the sea of people that were starting to take the floor in pairs for a dance.  “…Something like that…When a lot of people around, I can’t really think for myself. All I can really hear is…”

  “Clutter?” Erik suggested, pouring him a glass of punch and handing it off to him.

  “It’s…different here. These people are…different. They’re very…,” Charles struggled to find the word. “…Let’s just say their thoughts are loud…”

  “Is that right?” Erik looked him over for a moment as Charles purposely avoided his gaze. “Well, lucky for us, we have a corner all to ourselves.”

  “What do you mean?”

   Erik smiled slightly, his eyebrow raised almost suggestively before he took Charles’s glass from his hand and set it back down on the table. He wasted no time in closing the distance between them, one arm around Charles and the other clasping his hand.

  “Ah….I don’t…I don’t know how to dance,” Charles admitted, looking down between them.

   “That’s all right. It’s all in the leading…or in this case…the cheating,” Erik paused to take a tighter grip of Charles and lift him up a few inches until his feet were set atop his own. Immediately, Erik spun them around.

   “Whoa!” Charles hissed, gripping Erik’s shoulders hard before relaxing an inch and allowing Erik to take lead in moving them in the small space provided.

  “Well you’re right about one thing,” Charles noted. “This is definitely cheating. You know this wouldn’t pass for real, right?”

  “Why not?” Erik asked, seeming baffled. He dipped them and Charles gasped as he was given an upside view of the floor for a brief few seconds before Erik corrected his hold.

  “You know why,” Charles replied, giving his shoulder a little pinch.

  Erik decided to slow them down as the music mellowed out. Despite the ‘cheating aspect’, Charles found it kind of enjoyable. This way he could at the very least, pretend he knew how to dance.

    The opportunities were slim growing up. Maybe he would have learned had he actually _tried_ going to the highschool dances like prom and homecoming instead of focusing on the piles of homework waiting for him. They would have been there no matter what and he was sure he would have still gotten all A’s. Missing out turned out to be a regretful waste.

  “I’m glad you invited me,” said Erik. “this….is nice. I…I never really go to little…get-togethers like this.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” Charles answered. “even when I was a teenager…I missed out on the opportunity. I was so focused on my studies…on making my parents proud.”

  “Really,” Erik mused. “You’d think it’d be easier when you can read the teachers mind for answers.”

  “When I was being called on, I would answer the question correctly,” Charles admitted. “But…I didn’t want to cheat all the way.”

  “Such a good Samaritan,” said Erik, spinning them around once more. “Well… I can’t really complain. I admit I like that I’m your first dance partner.”

  Between them, Charles reached up to cup his cheek. “I am too...Smile, Erik…Stop frowning so much.”

  “I’m not frowning,”

   “Now you’re frowning even more,” Charles pointed out, thumb brushing the side of his lip as if he could will him to smile.

  Before Erik could answer him, the crowd around them started to applaud, all guests facing the stage which had lit up. A man with a square jaw and glasses appeared in a suit, smiling politely. He gave a few quips over the recent absence, making light of the situation.

  “And now let’s welcome the man himself,”

  Fisk always commanded a presence. If he chose the better path, he would have made an excellent politician. It was never too late to go completely clean, but knowing him…and knowing what he had gotten his hands in, he wasn’t willing to take that path now. He was a tall, bald, large set man. Even with a suit on to match the attire of his guests, he still managed to look like the most intimidating person in the room.

  “Thank you all for coming on such short notice…” Fisk trailed off and Erik was hardly paying attention when Charles stepped off him and manually stopped him.

  “That’s my cue…I’ll be right back,” Charles told him, pulling away.

  Erik reached out to take a hold of his wrist, stopping him. “Charles. I don’t…I don’t want you to do this alone. I’m not going to force my way into this meeting…because I know it’s for your job…and I know you could get into trouble. But please..”

  Charles smiled at him, coming close to brush Erik’s cheek again. “I’ll be fine…Really…You don’t have to worry.”

  “I told you before, that with a killer on the loose, that’s impossible,” Erik reminded him.

  “I’ll be fine,”

  Charles left him then. Erik watched him leave, watched him walk right up to the Kingpin. A few words were exchanged before the “bodyguard”, Wesley before Fisk took Charles around the shoulder, hand light on his back as he led him away, likely to a private office.

  “Damn it,” Erik hissed under his breath.

* * *

“I’m so glad you were willing to meet me on short notice,” said Charles, exiting a darkened hallway with Wesley leading him into the small office. Fisk was already sitting behind the desk, his fingertips pressed together.

   “And we apologize for taking you away from your…date?” Wesley questioned the last part.

  Clearly someone saw how intimate they were while dancing. So much for being a little hidden in the back, Charles laughed a little nervously, the sound coming out high.

  “It’s all right. He’ll be fine without me,” said Charles.

   Fisk was straight to business. “ I assume there’s a reason the FBI is attending a simple social event?”

   “Yes,” Charles took the seat opposite Fisk as Wesley directed. “Mister Fisk, we believe you’re in danger of another attack. We know a shipment of yours was recently…,” Charles broke off, watching Wesley approach Fisk’s side and whisper something in his ear.

  He squinted at the two of them then, feeling the tenor of their thoughts.

   _Relying on FBI protection is not advisable._ That was the general direction of Wesley’s thoughts. He was all politeness, but underneath was deep-seated distrust for everyone outside of Fisk himself.

  Fisk ignored Wesley. “What does the FBI know of the person behind this?”

   “Very little,” Charles replied. “ Speculation at best. There’s a number of suspects, but we’re working as hard as we can to narrow the culprit down. Rest assured, Mr. Fisk, that we will find who was behind this.”

   “You’ll forgive me if I’m _not_ very assured by your statement, Detective,” said Fisk bluntly. “The person who did this…trust me when I say that they won’t last long…wherever they are.”

  “I agree with that statement to a degree, Mr. Fisk. I agree that the culprit will be brought to justice,” said Charles.

  “With respect to the bureau, detective…I wasn’t speaking of _your_ brand of justice,” Fisk stated coolly.

  Charles raised his head high, face going slightly red. “…We are willing to offer our protection to you.”

  Fisk started laughing. “Again…no offense to you…but I think you should be a little bit more worried about your _own._ We’re done here.”

  He nodded to Wesley and Fisk stood up.

  Charles pleaded with him. “….Mr. Fisk, if you’d be willing to reconsider…”

  “I’m not. Your gesture is appreciated. Just do what your bureau does **_best_** , detective…and find them. That’s all you can do.”

   It was with a dejected feeling that Charles was led back to the banquet hall. He looked around for Erik through the sea of people, but couldn't find him. The little place Erik had called their corner was empty. A few feet away, Charles saw the door to the hall completely open, the two men who had been guarding it gone. 

  "Erik!" Charles called out over the sound of the music. No one answered him. There wasn't a sign of Erik anywhere.

  Yet he _barely_ got two steps towards the exit.

   All Charles remembered was the sound of glass breaking. He remembered trying to see where the source of noise  came from in that split second before the entire floor flashed before his eyes.

  And then nothing at all...


	13. The Aftermath

    The moment Charles left him to speak to Fisk, Erik turned towards the door, and took out of his phone, dialing Hank’s number. As soon as the call connected, Erik spoke. “I need you to get down here as soon as possible.”

    There was some static and then typing in the background as Hank responded in a bored tone. “Date not going well?”

  “No…there hasn’t been a sign of the one Shaw sent. I’ve scanned the guests…and I’ve tried honing into the surroundings. There’s too much noise in one place. Still, I’m not convinced there won’t be a hit tonight. The bait is too good. Even the security here is…”

     Erik paused, watching the two guards at the door for a moment. The one that checked them in had the door open and was clearly talking to someone outside. A curt nod exchanged between the second guard and him and the two of them walked out.

    “Maybe your girl or guy isn’t striking tonight. Have you considered that?” Hank was saying. “Maybe they saw you looking like a dashing knight, protector of all telepaths and decided against hitting the mark tonight.”

   “Unlikely,” said Erik. “Very… _unlikely_. Just head to the Venetian Tower, Hank. That’s where the party is taking place. Get here fast. Bring the rest of my equipment.”

   “Be there as soon as I can,” said Hank. “Stay sharp.”

   “Trying,” Erik answered, hanging up and looking towards the door again. Even the lobby where they had come from had darkened. No staff? That didn’t make sense. Even one person should have still been there.

  Erik made for the door and exited the lobby. It was pouring rain as Charles had predicted, the sound of thunder in the distance was echoing, no doubt coming closer.

  He saw the two guards heading down the sidewalk. One of them looked over their shoulder right at him and their pace quickened. Erik didn’t pursue them, instead he stilled himself for a moment.

  It was a practice he used to do when he was younger and not without great difficulty. It was hard enough to tune out the sound of the storm itself…and then even when he did that, he had to tune out the music from the inside of the building, still playing loud.

   Erik honed into the beating heart of everyone in his vicinity, and with no surprise, he found the irregularity, the heart that beat much faster and louder than a normal one.

  His eyes opened and he was almost blinded by red light. No doubt the scope of a rifle was fixated on him. A second passed and the light disappeared and it was then that Erik heard another sound, the steady sound of beeping coming from beneath the ground.

  “No…” It was all Erik managed to say before the impact. He was blasted off his feet, body twisting in mid air. A searing pain from his side told him that every single stitch in his side had torn. Heat burned from behind him, fire that consumed from all sides.

  He saw the white car be hit before he hit it, hands coming up to brace for the impact, but the blast was too strong and the force of it nearly knocked the vehicle over. The assassin was unconscious before he hit the ground, blood pouring from his head. 

* * *

 

  “Erik…”

  The voice sounded so far away.

   “Erik…wake up….Erik, you have to wake up,”

  It was like déjà vu and he was lying on the carpet of the Pulse and Raven was trying to rouse him. Yet it felt worse…so much worse. Erik could see an endless sea of black, and he knew where Hank’s voice was coming from, yet he didn’t  _want_ to focus on it, will himself to that direction and believe in his own miraculous survival.

  Not this time, when he should be dead.

   Except a face came to mind, first the eyes, a brighter blue than ever before as they watered, the nose…the lips. He could see the face contort in despair, saying his name out of sync from Hank’s.

  Then his eyes snapped open and Erik immediately felt the full force of his injuries. The impact to the car had cracked his left orbital bone right beneath his left eye. The source of blood running down his face came from a large gash on his forehead.

  Yet the worst pain came from his wounded side where he could feel the bandage Hank made damp with fresh blood.

  It could have been so much worse. It  _should_  have been.

  Erik was able to take in their surroundings. Shielded from the rain, Hank had moved his body from its original position to a nearby alleyway where he had been put in a sitting position against a brick wall. He could hear sirens and several helicopters close by.

  “Try not to move too much,” said Hank, one hand firm on Erik’s shoulder.

   “What happened?”

    “I don’t know…It looks like explosives were planted inside the walls and the floor…they must have detonated,” Hank told him. “ I was about a block away when it happened…When I passed, the entire floor looked like it had caved in. I found you outside in the street. You looked….”

   “No…,” Erik whispered, looking at the other man insistently through the darkness. “…Charles…Charles, is he safe?”

   Hank was silent for a moment. “I don’t know.”

  Erik grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him close with surprising strength. “What do you mean,  _you don’t know_?”

   “They’ve been dragging bodies out and putting them in bags, Erik. What do you _think_  happened?”

  “No…He’s not dead…he can’t be…,” Erik moved away from Hank and the forgetful act of twisting his body to get up had him hunching over, mouth covered by a hand to stifle a hacking cough.

  “Can you _not_  move so quickly like this? I’m amazed you even survived,” Hank watched as he continued to choke on blood and whatever else was coming up. “…M _ostly_  survived.”

  “Is Fisk alive?”

  “I’m sorry, I was busy trying to move  _your_  heavy ass to a secure location and try to see if you still had a pulse. I didn’t wait around for a roster on who’s alive and who’s _not_  in there,” Hank snapped.

   “If Fisk is alive, then the mark is still out and this  _hit_ …isn’t complete,” Erik told him slowly.

    “That no longer concerns you,” said Hank, his head tilting up and voice rising as he saw Erik begin to argue. “What  _we_  need to do now is get you out of here. Shaw’s mansion is too far. I know a place where we can get you patched up.”

  “There’s no time.” Erik shook his head, taking grip of Hank’s shoulder and using it to bolster himself up to stand.

   Hank followed suit, a hand held out between them as if expecting Erik to fall. “You’re in no condition to fight someone who’s not in the slightest bit injured. You’re just not. If you were fighting a cardboard cutout right now, I might let you go out and do it. Least you can tackle it or something, but another assassin? No. No way. I can’t let you—”

   Erik cut him off by placing his finger to his lower lip, shushing him. “…I have to see Charles. I have to see for myself. I’m not arguing about this.”

  “Erik…”

  Erik pleaded with him. “Please…Just  _help_ me. I know this isn’t…protocol or whatever Shaw would want you to do…but I need to at least try to save him. This is my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Hank countered. “No one asked him to investigate you. He should have known what he was getting into when he did.”

  “That doesn’t  **mean**  he deserves to die,” said Erik angrily. A wave of fatigue rolled over him, causing every muscle in his body to scream in protest. He gripped Hank’s shoulder tighter, taking the other one and putting all of his weight on him. He was surprised to find the other didn’t crumble under it. 

   Hank was quiet for the longest time before he raised his hand and patted Erik on the back, repositioning them so that Erik’s arm was slung around his shoulder for support. “ _Fine._ I brought your equipment…come on.”

  “Thank you,”

  There was a van that Hank had parked at the end. Once they were close enough, Hank unlocked the back and let Erik inside to sit on a small office chair in the corner while he took the one further in. There were several HD screens all powered through a laptop. If Erik knew Shaw, then this was all top of the line.

  Hank had the screens off for now, he turned the largest one in the center on and for the moment it seemed to display a wall. He walked back over to Erik and handed him a small black…ball.

  “I don’t want  _this_ …for the last time,” Erik growled.

   “You’re going to need it,” said Hank firmly. “I don’t care what you say. I can’t go in there with you. I’ll hold you down. But this won’t. I can back you up from here. I told you, I upgraded the software and you’ll need what it can provide.”

  “Fine…,” Erik mumbled in a defeated tone, throwing up one hand as Hank nodded to himself and manually placed an earpiece in his ear. Erik let him do it, even letting him fasten his mask over his face, handing him the black cloak to put on over his uniform.

   “We don’t have a lot of time,” said Erik, tearing off his tattered dinner coat and slipping it on, wincing several times as he did. He touched on the inside and felt his long dagger sheathed in place.

  Hank handed him a small first aid kit, nodding towards Erik’s injured side. “There’s a police blockade around the building. No one’s able to get in or out. You won’t make it in there without attracting attention,”

  Erik’s eyes closed and he struggled to tune the sounds out like he had before, failing within a few short seconds when sharp pains throbbed in his temples. 

    He massaged the area with his fingers, finding little relief. “I can’t… _I can’t concentrate_ …I don’t feel…Charles…or  _anyone_. I can’t…hear him.”

  “That’s what you’re going to have me for,” Hank assured him.

  “What if he’s one of the bodies you saw being dragged out? What if he’s already gone…?”

   “You believe that?  _Really_ believe that?”

  Erik let out a harsh breath. “I don’t want to… I can’t. “

   “ Then that’s what matters. Here,” Hank knelt in front of him, taking the first aid kit and placing a new bandage over the reopened wound. “This should stop the bleeding…but if you get in a fight…you’re better off probably running.”

  “Your advice is noted,”

   “Not that you’ll  _follow_  it,” said Hank sardonically.  “I’m going to back you up from here remotely. Let me know when you’re ready to move.”

   Erik continued to inhale and exhale, faster and faster. He started to hear his own heart hammering in his chest, not labored as it was before. Even the pain started to lessen and lessen by each minute passing. Each breath didn’t feel like a knife in his chest.

  Erik tore a long strip of cloth off the remains of his burnt coat and wrapped it around his side. “I’m ready.”

  “Good.”

   He stood up and made for the door. “Stay hidden. You hear anybody get close, get in the front seat and start driving.”

  “I know what to do,” Hank replied. “You got a plan?”

  “I need a find a way inside without attracting attention or having the officers out front interfere,”

  “They were spending a lot of time calming down the fire. I would take advantage of the chaos and slip inside. You want me to help creating more chaos?”

  “Whatever you can do,” Erik tapped his ear. “Keep in touch.”

  He jumped out of the van and made his way down the alley, stopping short of the corner and leaning against it where it was easier to stretch out and hear this time.  The distinct voice of Alex Summers, Charles’s partner was starting to become clear.

   “….don’t care  _what_ your excuses are. We need a way to the basement. I don’t care if we have to get a goddamn crane to do it.”

  A tired, surly female voice replied. “Agent Summers, the basement is caved in. Even if someone did manage to survive the explosion, they were probably crushed under the rubble.”

   “My partner…was in there,” said Alex coldly. “…I’m not leaving until I find him. Is that clear, officer?”

   “Yes, sir,”

   “Looks like Charles hasn’t been recovered yet,” said Erik in a low voice.

  “That’s a good sign,” said Hank. A moment later, the black HankSpy appeared floating next to Erik’s head, looking right at him with a green light inside the lens

   “I’m already irritated,” said Erik. He didn’t feel totally at ease that Charles hadn’t been found yet. Because it could have meant that the worse was yet to come.

  “I think there’s a path right across the street from your position. If you cut between buildings, you should be able to find the back of the Venetian Tower.”

  “Scan the area for me as much as you can. Do you see anything on the rooftops? That’s where I felt him…or her,” said Erik.

   “Infrared sensors don’t show anything. Whoever did this is gone.”

   “What about in the tower?”

  “It looks like there are about fourteen inside of the building, twelve outside.”

  “Good,” said Erik, rounding off the corner. He didn’t go in the direction that Hank had advised him.

  “You know…sometimes I feel like I’d be better off talking to a wall when it comes to you. Can you please turn towards the objective that I gave you? No? No,  _of course not_ ,” Hank objected in his ear as Erik grabbed him and placed the HankSpy inside his coat pocket.

   Erik saw Alex approach his car, trying fruitlessly to call Charles’s cell on the off chance that it too survived the blast. The moment he bent down inside of his car to retrieve his phone, Erik grabbed a handful of his jacket from the back and yanked him out.

  The detective predictably went for his weapon and Erik grabbed his wrist, twisting him around over the trunk of his car so he was pressed uncomfortably hard against it, both hands bound by Erik’s hand while his other moved to cover his mouth.

  “We’re going to talk. I’m going to speak, you’re going to shut up and listen. That’s how this is going to go. Do you understand?”

  “Mmf!” Alex responded indignantly.

   “I need you to blink twice to show that you understand the instructions I’ve given you.”

   Alex glared at what little of Erik he could see over his shoulder. Then very slowly, he blinked rapidly.

  Erik pulled him up, keeping a tight grip on where he was holding, dragging him under the cover of darkness towards the same alleyway that Hank had directed him before.

 The assassin twisted Alex around so that his back hit the brick wall hard, one hand pressed to his throat. “Sorry about that. Just taking precautions.”

  “ _You_ …,” Even in the darkness, Erik could see Alex’s skin turn a few shades too red with rage. “….You…You did this...”

  Erik’s mask barely contained the growl in his voice. “Explosives aren’t my forte, detective. If I wanted to kill Wilson Fisk tonight, I would have done it much cleaner.”

  “Like you did all the others that my partner’s has been finding?”

  Erik leaned in, eyes glinting almost threateningly. “That’s right.”

  “Better not break the streak right?” Alex struggled to take a breath as Erik’s grip tightened. “Right? Better kill  _me_. Another person to shut up so you can keep getting away with it. Well, let me tell  _you_ something. It’s not going to last. Sooner or later someone’s going to catch up to you. And when they do, I’m gonna-!!!”

  He broke off with a yelp as Erik tossed him into a pile of black garbage bags to his side.

  “You talk a lot, Detective,” said Erik, bending at the knee to take Alex’s pistol from its holster as he recovered. He clicked the hammer back and pointed it at his chest. “I’m  _not_  going to kill you.”

   “Your current position tells me otherwise. I don’t believe you,” said Alex venomously.

   “You don’t have to,” said Erik, releasing the gun. It didn’t drop but remained motionless next to his head. Several clicks were heard as the pistol dismantled completely, the metallic pieces just sitting in mid air.

  Erik didn’t move and the pieces dispersed into the darkness, bullets rolling all over the place.

  Alex stared in the direction of where his weapon went before glowering at Erik. “…What do you want from me?”

   “I need you to call off your bloodhounds. Call off the search.”

  “Not a damn chance,” Alex replied immediately. “Even if I could do that  _and I won’t_ …they would just have someone else give the same order.”

   “The person who did this had a hit on Wilson Fisk. It wasn’t my contract. Is he alive?”

  “Why should I tell  _you_?” Alex countered. “You’re probably here to finish the job.”

  “He’s not my contract,” Erik repeated. “You’re wasting time, Detective. The longer time you spend talking to me and NOT getting your people out of the building, the longer your partner remains unrecovered.”

   “How the hell do you know that he's here?"

   “Of course he's here,” Erik asked, his head tilting innocently. "He's looking for me, after all."

  “You're here to kill him, you son of a bitch,” Alex snarled, lunging towards Erik.

  The assassin was too quick, reflexively moving back and clipping Alex hard in the cheek with a closed fist. He made sure not to break a bone, but the detective would have a mark in the morning.

  “…Your partner is worth more alive at this time,” Erik went on.

   Alex touched his cheek where Erik’s big knuckle had cut him.“Why should I believe you? He’s a hindrance to… _whatever_ it isyou’re doing in this city.”

  “I’m not going to hurt him,” Erik promised.

   “Why?”

   Erik stood upright then, turning his back on the detective. The real answer would have the detective scrambling to find the remains of his gun so he could shoot him point blank.

  No, the lie would have to do… _as always._

   “I’m not going to let some stuck up, over extravagant fool take my mark from me,” said Erik coldly. His own voice made him wince at how brutal it sounded. Luckily, Alex couldn’t see it.  “…That person was here for Fisk. I need to know if Fisk is alive. If he is…then we have someone else in the area that you…should be more concerned with…given their…”

  Erik pointed all around them. “…methods.”

   "And how do I know you're not going to just 'take your mark' if you find Charles alive?"

   Erik's eyes tightened. "...I'm not. You have my word. I will bring your partner to you exactly as I find him."

   The assassin's hand went over his heart, his head bowed for the longest time.  Alex didn't know what it meant, yet he had no other choice at this time. He had a power that Alex didn't.  Magnetism, the deputy director had called it. He could control metal...and it would take at least half an hour to do what this... _assassin_ could do in under a minute.

  He hated the idea of relying on this man. He hated the idea of him having something to hold over his head in any capacity. Somehow it felt like there was going to be a demand of payment for that, even though he was not asking the assassin to find Charles. It was being offered to him, instead.

   A man who killed, who committed murder countless times had some kind of honor system now?

   Alex let out a deep breath, his head shaking at it all. Fisk, the assassin and the deputy director for ordering Charles to do this mission alone....he felt ... _anger_ towards all, but at the same time, fatigue. The only thing he really wanted right now was to see to it that Charles was alive. 

   "Too many people have died tonight," Alex remarked. " I don't want Charles to be one of them."

   "I know."  

   Alex nodded towards the building. “Fisk is alive. He was one of the first ones we recovered. He was found near the cave-in. Badly injured…but breathing as far as I know, he was taken away,”

   “You’d do well to triple the guard around his hospital room,”

   Alex deliberated in silence for a moment before slowly getting up as well. A loud sigh left him. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “…I feel like I'm going to regret this later but I’ll do what I can to clear them from the ground floor. You use that... _thing_ …whatever power you have and get him out…I don’t really give a damn about Fisk at this point, just find Charles…please.”

  “I promise,” Erik said again.

  He left him then, taking a hold of the bars of a lowered balcony and climbing upward until he was scaling the building using the brick footholds all the way to the top, settling in a low crouch on the rooftop. The Venetian Tower was still standing, it was the ground and basement levels that took damage.

  Fisk, if he was still alive, would be paying out a lot in damages. Erik drew out the HankSpy and let it go to float next to him.

   “Same schematics as before?”

   “Same as before,” said Hank back at him. “….Well…hold on…yeah they’re going down. Outside of the building now.”

  Erik peered over the edge where he could see Alex approach the crowd of officers and team members.

  “…I need you all to start blocking off these streets. Make sure nothing comes through. Jenkins, get to crowd control. We got reporters backed up on 36th street. Until we get this situation sorted out, I want no statements made.”

  “We’re good to go,” said Erik, taking a grand leap from his building to lock on to the back side of the Venetian Tower, sliding all the way down.

  Once he stepped off, he was able to enter the banquet hall through the shattered window. Half the wall had been taken with it in the explosion, and shards of glass were still falling.

  It was strange to be in a place that looked so different an hour ago. There were piles of rubble everywhere…and though the bodies had been carted off long ago, there was the scent of blood in the air. 

  More people died than survived...and suddenly Erik felt an ache in his chest. Where was Charles? 

   “Charles...,” Erik called out. 

   “There’s nothing on this floor,”

   He knew that, but he wanted to try anyway…just to hope. No doubt the police had already searched here. It was fortuitous that Alex was heading the operation...having someone else concerned about Charles was a plus. He made for the side of the room where a small kitchen had been used. Again, no bodies, yet the lingering scent of them remained. He could even pretend the music was playing as well.

  So much unnecessary death. There was a line that was crossed here. It was laziness and stupidity to try to kill Fisk this way…and for complete waste when Fisk managed to survive it. There were other ways, better ways. He had never thought of killing a mark by killing everything around him. That just wasn’t how they operated.

   He found a spiraling staircase near the freezer that no doubt led to the basement. Just looking down it, he could tell some of it had caved in as well, debris puncturing through the brick in dangerous ways. It looked like an obstacle course to cross. The cops would not have been able to get through it.

   Erik was able to close his eyes and concentrate, raising his hand to move the metal pipes and shards that had broken through, pushing them back just enough to let himself through. As he expected, once he took a step forward, the ground started to quake beneath his feet.

  “Maybe you should be a little more careful. This floor isn’t going to be stable.” Hank suggested.

   “Thank you, Hank,” Erik slowed his pace down, taking each step at a time with a hand on the wall. Once he reached the last step after ducking below a protruding pipe that had been missed, he was faced with a long hallway that was essentially a rubble pile.

   “You detect anything on this floor?”

  “Nothing so far…,” Hank replied.

  Erik continued onward, finding the main area in the same if not worse state. There was a mountain of rubble just below the ceiling.

   “I need to know if he’s still alive,”

   “No way he survived this…I’m sorry Erik,” Hank’s voice was sympathetic. “….You have to consider all the possibilities. Maybe he was closer to the explosion than we initially thought…and that’s why he hasn’t been recovered. If he was in the eye of the blast…”

   Erik knew where he was going with this and the mere thought had him shaking.

   He raised his hand towards the pile. Blocks of concrete and metal lifted off the ground, leaving only the jagged wooden planks sitting there. The HankSpy next to him flashed on a bright light and there Erik could see a sleeved hand sticking out.

   “Charles!” He called, pushing the debris into the corner that shook the floor. He ignored the tremor and lunged towards the detective, taking his wrist and pulling him away as gently as possible just in case there were any broken bones.

  Hands went to the Detective’s neck, feeling for a pulse but finding nothing.

  “No..,” Erik whispered. He pressed his ear to his chest, hearing a faint heartbeat. “…No…come on…Charles. Wake up. Listen to my voice. Come back to it.”

  The ground continued to rumble beneath him, pieces falling from an unstable ceiling.

   “Erik…You need to leave. Now,” Hank’s voice came sharp in his ear. “This place is coming apart. You’re not going to last-“

   He broke off when Erik reached up to take the earpiece out and cupped Charles’s face.

  The detective stirred, a name falling from his lips. The last person he was thinking of before everything went white. “….Erik…”

   His eyes opened, taking in the face of the assassin. The moment he was fully coherent, the nights events coming back to him fully, he shoved the other away with surprising strength. 

  _Not Erik_...no...the assassin. 

  “You…You stay away from me,” Charles managed to say before he sat up and coughed out a cloud of dust. He let out a cry of pain upon attempting to stand up, reaching towards his left leg.

  “Careful…it might be broken,” said Erik, standing up as well.  He moved to approach, but Charles held up a hand towards him.

  “Stay back! I mean it!” The detective reached towards his gun holster but the ground shook and more of the roof started to cave in. It sounded like the floor above the ground floor was starting to come down as well. It wouldn’t be long before the entire basement was crushed.

  The movement caused Charles to hunch over. He was about to fall but the assassin caught him under the arms, which Charles immediately tried to wrench away from.

   “I said stay-“

  The ground shook once more and Erik’s voice had a bite of impatience as he leaned down so that the detective was eye to eye with him. “I heard you the first time. You want to live, or not? Make your decision, Detective. Let me help you or _die_ where you stand.” 

   "You? Help  _me?_ Why would you help me?" Charles hissed.

   "I have a little more finesse than this. You should give me more credit."

   "You don't deserve credit. You kill people for a living."

   "Believe what you want, detective. This one wasn't me," said Erik. "Fisk is **alive.** If he was _my_ mark, I wouldn't be wasting my time trying to get you out of here. I'd be finishing the job. Now if you want to stay here and get crushed by a falling ceiling, be my guest." 

  Another quake and Erik lost patience, lifting Charles up, making him cry out again as his knees bent over the other man's arm.

   "Stop! Stop! It...hurts."

   "I know...I'm going to get you out of here...trust me,"

* * *

    “The area’s been clear, Agent Summers…can we call off the search now?” Officer Jenkins was getting a little annoyed. “ We’ve gotten orders to head to the Presbyterian Hospital.”

   “Hold on,” said Alex, keeping an eye on the entrance. He felt the earlier tremors…and while there was no sound of a particularly angry assassin yell as the rubble fell through, he wasn’t sure if he had made it.

  A part of him felt bad…he had managed to convince himself that the assassin, despite his any other sinister intention, was trying to help Charles in whatever way he could.

   But he hadn’t come through…and he had bought all the time he could have.

   “All right…fine…you guys head back to the hospital…I’m going to…..” Alex trailed off when he saw a flicker of movement inside the ruined lobby.

   And there he was. Charles was in the assassin’s arms, an arm under his legs and one supporting his back. For a moment, the detective assumed the worst until he saw his partner’s eyes open.

  “Charles!” Alex called, running over to them, jumping over passing debris as he did. He started to pry him free from the assassin, stopping when he saw him wince.

   “My leg…crushed…I think…broken…,” Charles managed to say.

  Alex gestured behind him to the officers nearby. “Call the nearest ambulance!”

  Alex’s eyes went to the assassin who let him pull Charles away. “ Thank you….for finding him.”

  The assassin kept his eyes on Charles as he answered. “…Take care of him for me.”

  “I will…Come on Charles…This way,” said Alex, turning around to walk Charles back out of the building.

  After a few steps on his good leg, Charles looked over his shoulder. The assassin was already gone.  

   "Erik...I need to find...him...," was the last thing Charles said before the many flashlights passing over blinded him and he lost consciousness. 

 


	14. The Midway Point

       “Remind me again why we’re up here…why we’re higher than normal people have to be?” Hank asked irritably as Erik ignored him, taking the leap from each building across the Venetian Tower.

     “You do realize you’re not physically here, right?” Erik countered, glancing at the floating device behind him.

     “Yes…but this is still starting to make me sick. I got the visuals,” said Hank.

     “I need to find out who was up here. They had a sniper rifle…they had it trained on me,” Erik explained. “I saw its lens on me before the explosion.”

     “I checked up here already. There’s no one here,” said Hank.

    “I know what you said,” Erik responded. He stopped short of the building diagonal to the Venetian Tower. There, Erik spotted the mount for a sniper rifle, but the gun itself was missing.  Erik approached the mount, kneeling and touching the metal. He could see it still pointed exactly where he had been standing when he exited the building.

    It was still hot, despite not being used as far as he knew.

   “I thought you’d catch up eventually…Magneto.”

    The voice sent a chill down Erik’s spine and as he looked over his shoulder, he saw a massive shadow move in the darkness. Erik immediately grabbed Hank’s device and placed it inside of his jacket, knowing the other could still hear every word. The man was dressed similarly to Erik with the uniform except his had a red trim down the sides and up the shoulders. Two long swords were strapped crisscrossed on his back. Though his face was masked and his head covered, Erik knew what the man would look like underneath. He was a man much older than him with short white hair, styled straight up.

   The man’s name to the organization was Warhawk, a decorated war veteran turned mercenary turned assassin. It was a common past of those Erik worked with. Shaw knew how to find people that could get the job done.

    It explained the use of explosives. Warhawk –- or as Erik knew him, Mitchell….was always fond of causing chaos. It was why he was transferred to the Los Angeles syndicate. He wasn’t a mutant…perhaps one of the few in the organization that wasn’t.  Erik saw empty wooden boxes laid out behind him that contained the explosives used to take out the Venetian Tower ground floor.

  “…Mitchell…,” Erik replied, his voice coming out brisk as he used his real name. “I thought you were reassigned.”

  “I was,” said Mitchell. “ But this was a… _unique_ opportunity. It’s not every day that the Kingpin becomes a mark. It’s not every day that the payout is so high, either.”

  “I suppose,” said Erik dismissively.

   “What I’m more curious about…,” Mitchell began to circle him, a slick metallic sound accompanied the movement, one of his swords brandished high and level to Erik’s neck. “…is why  _you’re_ here.” 

   “Oh good, we’re doing  _this_  now,”

   Mitchell smirked. “Answer the question. You played your part in Fisk’s demise at the docks...Why were you here tonight?”

  “I was invited,” Erik told him simply.

   Mitchell sounded amused. “ _Were you now?_ …I mean it wouldn't be the first time...but when I saw you down there through the scope, I was shocked... You looked so… _chipper_ with your date. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before.”

   Erik didn't know what he meant by 'wouldn't be the first time' he saw him through the scope of a rifle, but Mitchell's smug expression was _already_ starting to annoy him so he didn't ask for elaboration.

  Instead he licked his teeth, swallowing the anger down the best he could as he locked eyes with the other man. “…Business is business.”

   Mitchell clicked his tongue thoughtfully. His eyes squinted as he kept watch of Erik's expression. It was smooth, yet he heard something rattle behind him. His mess of bullets spilled earlier from a box were starting to tremble on the ground.

   Wind wasn't _nearly_ strong enough for that.

   Something about Erik's infinitesimal display of rage was amusing to Mitchell as he pushed on. “So he’s a mark."

   “So he’s **not** your business,” Erik replied in a clipped tone.  In the same moment, Erik pulled his own blade from its sheath, crossing against the others so it was pushed away from his throat. His own had a large, jagged curve in the middle.

   Just the lightest brush would draw blood.

  “Touchy subject,” said Mitchell, nodding to himself as if confirming an internal thought.

   “You know Fisk is alive, right? Your objective failed,” said Erik.

  “He gets one more night, that’s fine by me,” said Mitchell passively. “…I’ll finish my mark…I always do. He can feel high and mighty behind the hospital walls. The feeling won’t last, trust me.”

   “Let me see if I got this right,” said Erik slowly, leaning heavily on one side. “You detonated explosive charges tonight, killing _many_ with the endgame in mind to…kill Fisk…And now…you’re going to attack a hospital, again, killing many….to kill Fisk. Am I hearing you correctly?”

   “What of it?”

   “Do you take constructive criticism on your methods?”

   “I do not,” said Mitchell coldly.

   “I didn’t think so,”

   Stubborn old man. Stagnant in his ways. He looked at Mitchell for a long moment, the other assassin was sizing him up too. But he had no intention of fighting the other man tonight. Attacking another member of the organization that hadn’t gone rogue or defected was considered treason.

     “Hate to sound like someone I absolutely despise...But you'll hear it sooner or later. May as well be from _me_. Mitchell. Clean up your mess,” said Erik, sheathing his weapon.

     As Erik began to leave, Mitchell called out to him. “You’ll find this interesting. After the detonation, I got a call….. Never really thought I’d hear from  _Emma_ again.”

    Erik stopped in his tracks.

  Mitchell went on, watching Erik’s form. “…She said she had an offer for me. Double what Shaw is offering for Fisk. She said all I had to do was capture a certain telepath that was within the police force. I’d get a bonus if I took out the…assassin that’s been causing her problems.”

   Erik turned around to face him again, his expression darkening behind the mask.

  “…You didn’t think you could keep him to yourself, did you, Magneto? I wasn’t sure what to do when I first saw you through the scope. I kept thinking I need to bail the mission…but I calculated the odds of your survival and hit the detonator anyway,” Mitchell smiled, his head tilting. “….Imagine my surprise when I saw you right after…the way you _threw yourself back_ in to find him…to save him.”

  Erik stopped just short of a foot away from the other man., his arms crossing while the other jeered and continued his tirade. No doubt he was riding a victory high. Having something over someone else, leverage…power…whatever. It was **human** nature to try to exploit that, to use that.

  Shaw had primarily inducted mutants into the organization. Mitchell was one of those few human exceptions that was accepted based on their skill and prowess against all types of opponents.

   “I thoroughly read through Shaw’s dossier on you, Magneto. You’re strong. Probably the strongest that Shaw has at his disposal…but there’s a glaring flaw in your profile: You’ve never killed another member of the organization. “

   Erik scoffed. “Maybe if you read that dossier _thoroughly_ …you’d realize that there was never an issue with killing other members. It was with killing my own kind.”

  A strange, metallic crunching sound followed his words. Blood exploded from Mitchell’s body. The sound of a bone shattering beneath flesh was very loud in the darkness. An anguished cry of pain left Mitchell as he collapsed to his knees drowned everything else. He was left bleeding, clutching his shoulder. Erik hadn’t moved at all, yet as the bloody white device floated in front of him, he reached out to take it.

  “and you’re not one of us,” Erik turned the device over in his hand.

  “…Maybe when the doctor prescribes you a **pacemaker** , you make an informed decision and retire.”

  Mitchell was gasping, labored breaths leaving him. “You…You son of a bitch.”

   “I was willing to overlook the fact that you nearly killed me tonight. I was even willing to forgive that you ruined my evening…but then you just had to keep talking.”

  “You….You….,” Mitchell struggled for words. He was starting to wheeze now. “You think you’ll get away…with…this? You think killing me….will…stop them? They’ll come for you…at all sides…they’ll take your…telepath…and you’ll die watching them drag him away. You won’t be able to protect him…Shaw won’t be able to protect you.”

    Erik ground his teeth together and leaned down. “…Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s all about to go downhill from here. Thing is, Mitchell…you won’t be around to see it.”

   The assassin took a handful of his own sleeve, tearing it down from the shoulder and balling up the cloth. He stuffed the material into Mitchell’s mouth, stifling his cries as Erik grabbed a hold of the other’s uniform and threw him over the edge of the building.

   Erik watched until the body made impact, the pavement cracking as he hit.  

* * *

 

   When Charles came to, he found himself, not on a bed, but face down on cold wooden floor. His eyes swiveled behind closed lids and he slowly opened his eyes. His head pounded at the back and near the temples, but he was conscious. That was a good sign.

   He took in his surroundings. It was a room he recognized immediately, for it was his parents’ house. Specifically, this was his father’s study. As a child, he hadn’t been allowed inside but when he was a teen, his dad allowed him to use it for schoolwork. He saw the leather chair facing the fireplace, the black desk and chair near him…and the wall to wall bookshelves.

  His father had once said that he had read every book in here…and young Charles remembered how impressed he was, striving to do the same when he got older.

  The unusual part was that this wasn’t the entire office. Where there would be the door, there was **another** office entirely with white walls, silver metal chairs, a white colored desk and one black and red painting sitting on the wall above the desk. It was an unusual painting...one of a blood red background and finger marks of black slashed through it, overlapping each other like someone had clawed through.

   The divide between the two rooms was separated by what looked like an electrified current. As Charles approached the other office, there was a shimmer in the air that stopped him in his tracks.

  This was either a really strange dream or an illusion. He couldn’t decide which. He remembered the events of tonight. There was a banquet hall…Erik…and then an explosion that destroyed everything. He remembered being rescued by the masked man who took him outside. He remembered feeling anger…confusion at his appearance. His first instinct had been to blame him for the incident…and only now was it dawning on him that the assassin had rescued him.

  Yet why was he here? Shouldn’t he have been in a hospital?

   “Hello?” Charles called out, feeling his voice echo. “ Is anyone there?”

  In answer, a brightness formed in the office opposite his fathers’ and someone appeared in front of the desk. It was a tall man with dark skin, wearing a long white and black suit with a felt hat on top to cover the top half of his face. His fingers interlocked over his stomach as he looked at Charles with the strangest look on his face. Astonishment and a genuine respect.

  “Remarkable…simply remarkable,” The man whispered. “That’s the _second_ time you’ve touched my mind. I’ve never felt power like this before…I couldn’t help but speak to you myself.”

  “Touched your mind?? How did I…?” Charles trailed off, looking around once more. “What are you saying? What is this place?”

  “This? This is a place I like to call the Midway Point,” The man told him.  “Usually it’s a place your subconscious deems as the place that feels most like…home.”

   “…Midway Point. Midway Point between what?”

   “Between your mind…and…,” He gestured to himself, placing a hand over his chest. “…mine.”

  “I don’t…understand. Who are you?”

   “My name is Jason…Take it easy, Charles...You’ve been through a lot tonight. You don’t want to _strain_ yourself,” said Jason. There was something very off-putting about his voice. It echoed slightly, too soft…almost hypnotic.

   "That's it....That's it, Charles...Good," Jason soothed, his voice low and gentle as Charles felt his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. "...Good...Very good. Now, step forward. Closer to me. I can help you, Charles. Just close your eyes....Close.."

  He heard the words inside now, like they were part of him.

    _Close your eyes....That's it now._

   Each word was like a breath of cool ice, permeating every corner of Charles's mind, softening out all the jagged edges and repressing any vehement counter.

_No._

  The word was distant in Charles's mind, but he knew the word left his lips.

   It was then that Charles knew. This man was not a victim of cruel fate like Charles thought he was. This wasn't an accident. He knew then that this man was the one who had pulled him here.. _somehow._

The words were meant to be a form of hypnosis. Yet Charles could feel where the other man's influence started to creep in, and he was able to push it away. The light in his part of the divide began to brighten.

   Charles's tone deepened with rage. "Get. Out. Of. My Head."

   Jason feigned a scowl as his influence was contained. " _I just got in_...Why leave so soon? It's not everyday you meet someone quite like you."

   “What do you want from me?"

   Jason smiled, his whole face lighting up. But Charles could see a different kind of joy there. It was that **vindictive** pleasure that only came when someone had all the cards in their hands. “I've been looking for you for a long time, Charles and I'm not going anywhere...Not until you... Let. Me. In." 

* * *

    _Incoming call from Sebastian Shaw._ A computerized woman’s voice said into the earpiece which made Erik flinch as he made his way back to Hank’s van parked down the alleyway.

   “What the hell,” Erik muttered in annoyance and huffing. Mitchell's body was safely tucked at the bottom of a large dumpster, covered in so much garbage that he would be completely camouflaged inside of it. 

   Yes, the first thing he wanted to hear was an annoying, monotone voice telling him he had a call from literally the worst person alive.

   “I forgot to tell you, I have your cellphone interfacing with the HankSpy,” said Hank as the computer repeated the incoming call message. “So even though it was destroyed in the explosion, it’s still technically…you know, there.”

   There was no point in avoiding the inevitable.

    “Connect it,”

   _Incoming Call from Sebastian Sh_ -  “….Erik. What the hell is going on in the city? My intelligence says that the Venetian Tower was destroyed. Is Fisk still alive?”

   Intelligence. He said that. With a straight face.

    Erik visibly rolled his eyes. “ You know who you sent.  Mitchell is dead.”

   “I’m sorry. It _sounded_ like you just said one of my top agents is dead. Am I hearing you correctly or am I getting some interference?”

   “Warhawk is dead,” Erik repeated. “He betrayed us. I was going to let him go, Shaw. I swear. But he told me himself that Emma reached out to him, offered him double Fisk’s contract for taking me out.”

  Erik purposely kept out the fact that Mitchell stated that his new contract with Emma stated that he kill him _and_ capture Charles. However, the less Shaw thought about Charles, the better.

  Shaw’s tone changed, the anger receding just slightly as a note of panic entered. “….Emma? She’s in town?”

  “That’s what I’ve heard,”

   “This changes things,” said Shaw. “This is the second time we’ve had interference with either Jason or Emma. We can only assume the two of them arrived together. It seems the Deputy Director now has a personal problem with us. If Emma is indeed in the city, Erik…then your primary target is her.”

   “Understood,” Erik answered.

   “Alive if possible, Erik,” said Shaw.

   “No promises.”

  Erik hung up the phone, heading back to the van and entering from the back. He settled into the seat that Hank had placed him in earlier when he was trying to help him get back out there after the explosion. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

  Thoughts went to Charles…and how the other man would try to call him and find nothing. He knew he’d do the same once he woke up. His date had disappeared from the party entirely and then was nowhere to be seen after? There would be no hospital documentation of admittance…no witnesses that saw him carted away. His only advantage in the situation was that there was too much chaos right now to focus on anything.

   “Erik,” Hank turned around from his seat, shutting off the Hankspy display which showed nothing but black since Erik still had the HankSpy in his pocket.

  Erik didn’t open his eyes. “What.”

  “I heard everything,” said Hank softly.

   “I know you did.”

   There was a long note of silence. “….Why didn’t you tell Shaw everything? Mitchell said he wasn’t here to kill you…he said he was here to capture the Detective…and killing you was just a bonus.”

  “I know.”

   “Erik…,” Hank’s voice was laced with disapproval. “I’ve been covering for you….witholding information from Shaw…playing along with…whatever it is you’re doing…but enough is enough. If Jason and Emma…are here for the detective…then you’re in over your head. You can’t possibly win against both of them, not even you can do that.”

  “I can take care of myself,” said Erik hotly.

   “That stab wound in your side says differently,” Hank snapped. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to look out for you. That’s what I’ve always done.”

  “I know,” Erik said again.

   “You know the rules…You know everything Shaw has ordered like the back of your hand….You’re not supposed to even get to know your marks,”

   “Charles isn’t a mark,” Erik pointed out.

   “He’s on his way to becoming one. The longer you keep this in the dark, the worse it’s going to be when Shaw finds out,”

   “I don’t care what Shaw thinks,”

   “Maybe you don’t,” Hank stood up then and moved to approach Erik, standing over him with a large shadow. “…but you don’t have an army of people that are trained to kill on command. This isn’t how it works, Erik.”

  Hank faced away from Erik, a humorless smile playing on his face. “I…know…you care about him. Mitchell was right. You wouldn’t have went back for him if you didn’t…you wouldn’t have even agreed to this outing if you didn’t…and I’m happy for you, Erik. I really am. I’m glad you found someone. Most of us, in this line of work are lucky to find someone for one night, let alone several.”

  “Stop talking,” said Erik irritably.

  But he didn’t, of course. “…He’s…not worth your life.”

   Finally, Erik opened his eyes and looked at him, his eyes hard. For a moment, Hank thought he was angry, but there was something different…something sad. “…We all have to die sometime.”

  “For God’s sake,” said Hank through his teeth. “You have a response for _everything,_ don’t you? Always trying to play it cool, always trying to shrug shit off. You can’t do that _this_ time. People died tonight. One of our own… **died** tonight. This is serious.”

   It was a long night…and Hank’s preaching was not helping him. Not to say he wasn’t registering what the other man was saying, because he was. Just that he didn’t want to face up to it. He hadn’t even refuted Hank when he said he cared about Charles. And he had hesitated there, like he wanted to  elaborate just a little more on ‘Erik’s feelings’.

   “I’m going home,” said Erik, standing up and facing the doors. “It’s been a long night. We’ll tackle the new objective tomorrow. You have some form of my phone on you. Contact Raven…Tell her I want to meet first thing in the morning.”

  “We’re not done talking about this, Erik. We’re continuing this later,” said Hank harshly.

  “Sure. Why not.”

   And Erik left him, completely unaware that the _worst_ was yet to come.

  


	15. Coma

    Charles didn’t understand what the other man was asking of him. _Let him in?_ What did that mean? The world around him seemed to hinge on the question. And he realized quickly that this man…Jason…was asking to be let into his mind. Because Charles was a telepath, they were in this dream like state. 

  It was his father's study that stood behind him, a representation of a place of warmth and love he felt in his youth.  It was full of color from the spines of books taking up each wall. Full of brown from the dark wood shelves. It was a fond remembrance to a simpler time of a father looking at him from crooked glasses and eyes crinkled in amusement.

   And before him stood nothing. The blandness of Jason's office with no warmth, but a cold...lonely feeling. How could that be the place where he felt most at home?  

   "There's nothing... _nothing_ behind you. " said Charles. Except that painting. Charles looked at the black streaks for a long time. He instantly knew what it was.

**Pain.**

   " I can...sense...," Charles reached out almost unconsciously to touch the other man's mind and his forehead immediately creased, hand rising up to cover his temples. He felt a painful stab on each side. Then it rammed the back of his skull.

   A flash appeared before his eyes of a old long l-shaped black building with barbed wire fences gating it all the way around. A storm surrounded it, the lightning flashing before a crackling snap and boom of thunder that pounded in Charles's ears.

   The building was pulled from his mind and he was inside now. Children no older than five or six, wearing faded and patched grey jumpsuits, on their hands and knees with buckets of black paint beside them, splashing the walls and covering every inch of faded white underneath. The children sang a song together, each singing their own verse in a different language, laughing together when someone used a comical tone or funny face on their turn...quieting when they heard the deeper and harsher voice of an adult on approach.

   No _light_...The windows were covered by layers of brick and covered internally by reflective obsidian glass, blotting out the sun and moon. 

     Charles had backed up a few steps without realizing it. Then he was back within their two worlds, looking at Jason who had his hand over his temple as if Charles had just...attacked him somehow. He too was breathing hard, teeth bared and fury barely contained in his expression.

   And then that **smile** returned.

    "My turn," was all Jason said.

   An explosion of shadows burst from the room behind Jason, shadowing and destroying the room behind him completely. It was with no effort that the other telepath stepped through the division line into the study, into Charles's mind.

   "To be quite honest...I was being polite, Charles. Your compliance...is not _truly_ necessary," Jason told him, his voice echoing as it grew louder, reverberating through the walls of Charles's once more, except there was no soft attempt through influence this time.

   There was true  _force_ behind his power now.  The emptiness he felt just by looking through Jason's memory was magnified a thousand times.

  He could hear the voices in his head. Children screaming in pain, cries and pleas for the pain to end. He heard the sounds of doors closing in on confined spaces, the buzz of electrical equipment and the shrieks that followed...He could hear the deep and cruel laughter of men.

   The dawning hopelessness crashed through every inch of Charles's body and he felt what the children felt....that there was no way out...that no one was coming to save him. He would die here...alone...and afraid.   

* * *

     Erik barely slept that night. There was panic in the streets. No one wanted to sleep…because they didn’t know what had happened. They knew some sort of bomb went off and of course the immediate thought was that this was a terrorist attack. It wasn’t wrong to call it that, but not in the way they thought.

   It was already morning and he hadn’t rested nearly enough. His eyes opened to see the HankSpy lens staring at him dead in the face, up and floating. It might have made him jump, but he just sleepily scowled at it and laid back.

  “Why,” Erik muttered, reaching blindly for the earpiece on his bedside table and plugging it in clumsily. “What.”

   “Raven is on her way and I’m not far behind. Traffic is insane. They’ve got several blocks around the Venetian Tower…it’s a mess out here.”

   “Yeah…,” Erik mumbled.

   Hank stayed quiet for a moment. “….I still think we need to talk…and what we need to talk about, we need to talk with Raven too.”

   “You know I was just humoring you,” said Erik. “Whatever you want to talk about, I don’t. It’s not up for discussion.”

   “You’re going to get yourself killed. You need to be focused on what Shaw told you to do. You need to be focused on Emma.”

   “I’m focused,” Erik replied shortly. He gave the HankSpy a pointed look before taking out the ear piece and climbing out of bed. As soon as he got up, every muscle in his body ached. Being thrown from an explosion would do that to someone. He was not doing himself any favors by not continuing to rest.

  Yet there was no choice. He limped towards the bathroom, one eye shut tight as he went about his morning business.

  Once he got out of the bathroom, freshly showered, and wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, there was a knock at the door. The shower had helped with some of the aches, but not by much. He opened the door to let Raven and Hank both inside.

  “It’s a fucking nightmare out there. Pardon my language,” Raven was speaking fast. She had a large brown bag that smelled like Chinese food.

   “No one eats lunch and dinner food for breakfast,” Erik pointed out.

   “Go fly a kite in a thunderstorm, Erik,” Raven snapped as she began unloading white containers from the bag. “it’s been a really stressful night. I’m stress eating.”

   “Why are  _you_  stressed?”

    “Turn on the TV and see for yourself,” said Raven, gesturing to his television which had not been used once sitting in the living room. It was starting to collect dust. Erik shot her a suspicious look before he moved towards the TV, turning it on.

   It was already on a local channel, a female reporter with brown hair was reporting live from City Hall.

   “…here live where Captain William Stryker is to make a statement regarding the attack on the Venetian Tower last night,” The screen split and the reporter from the actual station took up the other half of the screen.

   “Thank you, Joan. We’re getting reports coming in that Wilson Fisk is conscious,” The headline at the bottom changed from the terrorist attack to what he just said about Fisk being alive. “Do you think he’ll be able to verify who was behind this?”

  “Well, John. I don’t think anyone can confirm what happened last night. The NYPD have so far stayed tight-lipped about this,” said Joan.

   “Do you think this has anything to do with Deputy Director Frost being in New York?  Is this is a national-level threat we’re dealing with?”

  Hank, Raven and Erik exchanged looks, and both of them settled on Erik. He didn’t move, but there was a tightening in his eyes at the confirmation that Emma was in town.

   “Hard to say, John.  Oh, here he comes now!”

  There was flash photography and Joan’s voice was almost drowned out as the camera moved to follow her up the steps where Charles’s captain.

  The man did not look well at all. Someone should have prepped him for this as he approached the podium. His suit was dirty, like it hadn’t been worn for a month without being washed. The white dress shirt underneath was starting to turn a little more grey. He hadn't shaved in what looked like weeks, bags heavy under his eyes. Erik hadn't been sleeping well either, but he could say he was faring a lot better than this guy when it came to dealing with insomnia. Was the case really getting to him that much?

   Erik took a step closer to the screen and looked even closer as the man spoke.

    “…doing the best we can to find out the culprit behind it,” Stryker was saying as more cameras flashed.

   “Captain Stryker,” An unseen energetic reporter called out. “ Do you think this was an act of terrorism? Are the people of the city in danger?”

   “Rest assured, our department is working diligently in their investigation. The explosion came from the inside, so there was no doubt that explosives were set to remote detonate. At this time, we're not sure of any motive behind this act.”

   “Captain Stryker!” Another reporter cried. “Is it true that there was a police officer in the building when the explosions were set off? We have unconfirmed rumors that he’s in recovery at Presbyterian.”

   “I cannot comment on that,” said Stryker robotically. He gave a faint nod to the crowd. “…next question?”

   As he spoke, Erik read the crawl at the bottom: AT LEAST 27 DEAD: 18 INJURED FROM EXPLOSION AT VENETIAN TOWER.

   Erik clicked his tongue as the crawl repeated itself.  He shut off the TV on the image of Stryker and turned to the other two.

   “This confirms it. Emma Frost is here,” said Erik.

    “This was such a good deal, staying here, this city. So easy to blend in,” said Raven, crestfallen.

   “No,” Erik responded. “…We’re not running away from her.”

   “Jason and Emma. One city. Two telepaths. Three, counting the cop you’re trying to stop,” said Raven, waving her hand absently. “We can’t take them all on. Face it, Erik. Leave this one to Shaw. ”

   “Shaw’s already given the order,” Hank spoke in a quiet voice before Erik could answer. “Orders are to take down Emma.”

 _Alive, if possible,_ Shaw had said.

   “God,” Raven moaned, burying her face in her hands. “This is too much. I’m getting a headache and I’m not even a telepath. That guy on the TV, you know he’s being mind-controlled right? He’s Emma’s puppet. I’m not looking forward to that kind of life. I don’t know about you two but…”

   “We don’t have a choice,” said Erik firmly.

   Raven just shook her head in response but said nothing.

   Then Hank spoke, still in his subdued tone. “…We’re going to help you, Erik. We’ll do what we can. Maybe we can head to this…Captain guy’s house. Find some clues and see if he’s willing to tell us where Emma is holed up.”

   Erik nodded. “ That’s a good start.”

   “What else did you want to talk to us about?” Hank asked.

   Erik looked at him for a long moment then he walked back to the kitchen so that he was facing them both. “After this is all over…after…Jason…and Emma are taken care of, I’m…I’m retiring.”

   Raven’s head popped back up. “Come again?”

   “You heard me right,” said Erik. “I’m retiring after Jason is taken care of. I'm done."

  They were both silent, both just staring at him.

   “Any reason…that  _this_  particular decision was made?” Hank asked, looking at Erik with narrowed and hard eyes. He was sounding like he was jumping to a very inconsiderate conclusion.

 Erik met his gaze evenly.  “…Many reasons…but I’m done killing for Shaw,”

  “Do you even have enough money to retire on?” Raven asked, but she already knew the answer, having accidentally come across his bank statement in the past.

    She nearly fainted then, and she probably would again if she knew it was actually triple that amount now.

   “Yes, I have enough,” said Erik with a bite to his tone.

   “Erik, you can’t just leave,” Raven pleaded.

    “I’ve made my choice. If it was up to me, I’d force you two to do it too…but can’t ask that.”

   “What are you even going to do when your money is all spent, and I know you and your expensive taste. Take a job at a bookstore?” Raven asked sarcastically.

   “Up to me,” said Erik, shrugging. “Think I might travel. I’ve been needing a vacation…but that all depends….on….factors.”

     “Let’s just…,” Hank kept his gaze sharp on Erik. “Let’s just get through this first. Survive this first, I should say.”

    “Factors,” Raven repeated like it was a curse. “Could you  **vague**  that up for me?”

    Before Erik could answer, there was that computerized voice coming from his room. Much louder now that his ear piece wasn’t on.

    _Incoming call from… **Unknown Number.**  Incoming call from  **Unknown Number**._  

“Hold that thought,” said Erik, leaving them to trade a meaningful look while he limped back to the bedroom, closing the door behind him and taking the earpiece, plugging it in.

  “Uh…connect,” He said out loud.

   The phone connected instantly and he heard background noise like monitors beeping and people talking in the distance. Sounded like an airport.

   “Hello? Is this Erik?” A vaguely familiar male voice asked.

   “Speaking,” said Erik shortly. “Who’s this?”

   “This is Detective Summers. I’m Charles’s partner from work,” said Alex.

   “Oh…right. How is he doing? I was going to visit him…sooner…but I had to do something first thing,” Erik explained. Yeah, he could vague up everything he said.

  Alex didn’t seem to mind, but he didn’t answer the question. “Charles should be happy to hear about you. I think the last word that left his mouth was your name…he was so concerned.”

   “I’m all right. None the worse for wear…I would have called but I’m sort of using a computer…type of thing. My phone was destroyed,” said Erik.

   “His was too…but I don’t think he’d be able to answer even if he had it,” said Alex in a grim tone.

   “What do you mean? What happened?” Erik asked. Charles broke his leg but he was conscious when Erik pulled him out last night.

   “…He hasn’t woken up.”

   “What?” Erik’s tone was sharp now, and he glanced at the door, hearing Hank and Raven talking and laughing in the distance. “…What do you mean?”

   “I mean he’s in a coma. You’d better get down to Presbyterian. Room 302.”

   “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t move,” said Erik, already pulling a leather jacket out of his closet.

  Erik walked out of his room with more fervor towards the kitchen, grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter top.

  “Where are you going in such a rush?” Raven asked, watching him.

   “Something’s come up. I’ll be back soon. Get to the station. When the Captain comes out, follow him home and wait there. Then call me.”

   “You want us to stake out a police station  ** _all day_**?” Hank complained. “How the hell are we supposed to even reach you? You don’t have a phone.”

   Erik paused in the act of moving to the door. Then he moved behind Hank, who felt something move in his back pocket, making him jump. Erik was holding his phone up.

   “It’s too risky to approach Captain Stryker with all of his officers around him. We need him alone. Call Hank’s number to reach me,” Erik ordered. “You two stay together. No matter what happens.  _Stay together._ ”

   “But Erik! Where are you going?” Raven called after him but he was already out the door.    

* * *

 

    Erik all but sped down the street in his haste to get to the hospital. He didn’t once break a traffic rule, indicating whenever he needed to, stopping when he absolutely had to…but he was driving the exact speed limit, which made for some very impatient honks behind him as he sped past people.

   Within seconds, he was in front of the Presbyterian, climbing the steps and making his way to the reception desk. A young woman was sitting there, stirring her cup of coffee and staring at her computer screen. When she saw Erik, she looked up and smiled.

   “Hi, how can I help you?”

   “Room 302…Can you check me in as a visitor?” Erik asked.

   “Sure…Name, please?”

   Erik paused for a fraction of a second. “…Hank McCoy.”

   “Okay….thank you….,” He was surprised she didn’t ask for an ID, but she printed out a small sticker with Hank’s name, handing it to him. “I hope I spelled it right.”

  Hank Mackoy.

   “You got it, thank you,” said Erik, smiling as he walked past her to the elevators and pressed for the third floor. The doors closed and he held his breath, ignoring the familiar, suffocating feeling whenever he entered one of these damn things. He crumpled up the sticker calling him the wrong name and took a deep breath.

  Coma…coma…How did Charles fall into a coma? Was there blood loss? He would have remembered him bleeding…but he was in such a rush to get the detective out of the danger zone that he didn’t stop to completely assess his injuries. What if it had happened was he was plowing through the rubble in the basement to find him? What if he was the cause?

  Add that to the list of transgressions against Charles.

   302 was right there when the elevator opened and the door was wide and ready for him…yet Erik couldn’t help but hesitate for a moment. Hospitals….he hated hospitals. The smell of the old, the sick the dying…and overuse of hand sanitizer….he couldn’t stand it.

   Alex greeted him inside, coming off from a chair next to the bed, blocking his view of Charles to shake his hand.

   “Hey…glad to see you up and about,” said Alex, tightening his grip a bit. “ Charles’s phone was cracked in all places, but I managed to get it up for like half a second to get your number out of it.”

   “Thanks for calling me,” said Erik, giving him a polite smile before he looked over his shoulder and the detective moved aside for him.

  The monitor next to Charles was steadily beeping to indicate life…yet the way he laid, hands on his sides and flat, eyes closed…yes he looked like he was sleeping, but the sight shook Erik to the core. His leg was in a cast from his foot to mid thigh.

  This is what he had done to him by being in his life….broken his leg and induced a coma. No, he hadn’t done it himself…but he may as well have.

   “Is he…is….,”Erik couldn’t even talk. “….I’m sorry…I…I’m not used to seeing things like this.”

   An assassin who killed for a living…and mercilessly, coming apart at the seams. He was used to seeing death, it was part of every day life. Yet he could barely look at Charles in this state.

  It’s what kept the assassin from coming closer. Coming closer, touching him would make this real and he didn’t want to make it real.

   “He was conscious when we found him…talked, even walked…like halfway…then he just collapsed,” Alex explained, having no problems with approaching the bed and eyeing the monitors for heart rate and respiratory.

   “…Collapsed...Was…Was he injured more?”

   “Nothing more serious than the broken leg,” said a voice behind Erik. He turned and found himself face to face with a young woman with brown skin and long black hair wearing light blue scrubs. She wore a badge with a small picture of herself a little below her shoulder that read ‘C.Temple’.

   “I’m Claire. I’m the nurse. Are you a friend of the patient?”

   Erik shook her hand briefly. “Something like that. If there’s nothing serious besides the broken leg….then why is he in a coma?”

  Claire shook her head. “….He had a minor contusion in the back of the head from the fall. Could have been a lot worse. Something soft must have saved his fall…We didn’t find any other external or internal bleeding.”

   She wasn’t explaining why he went into a coma, she was explaining why he shouldn’t have gone into one.

  “…That doesn’t make sense,” said Erik, his eyebrows furrowing.

  Alex spoke up. “Something happened earlier…in the morning. They called me. He was just sleeping and then his heartrate skyrocketed and he started jerking around…and…,”

  Erik looked to Claire for an explanation when Alex trailed off.

   “…A seizure,” said Claire. “I’ve…never really seen anything like it before. We sedated him…but…he hasn’t regained any kind of consciousness. Until he wakes up, we don’t be able to assess if there is serious brain damage.”

  “…Do your scans, you can do that, can’t you?” Erik’s voice had an accusatory edge. “…I mean he’s not awake, but he’s got a pulse, right? Why can’t you check on his brain activity now? See when he’s going to wake up?”

  Claire quickly glanced around the room, when the lights seemed to flicker. Her eyes widened and she placed hand lightly on Erik’s shoulder, her voice very soft. “We’re doing all we can for him, I promise. We’ve stabilized him. He’s going to be fine, okay? Just stay calm.”

  Why was she telling  _him_ to stay calm? The moment she touched him, however, he realized he was trembling, that his hands were clutched into fists in his jacket. 

   A seizure in a coma. Was that normal…? Then Erik started to remember something from long ago.

   It was back when Emma was still a trainee…and Shaw was having her train with a young male telepath by the name of Skylar.  Emma had called it the battle of the minds as a joke…Both of them were lying perfectly still on two beds next to each other. He didn’t know what the goal was at the end, and the game lasted for two days. Then suddenly Skylar began to convulse, shake and jerk around, foaming at the mouth.

   They had tried to wake him up, shake him, pinch him, throw water on him…anything…but he never moved again.

      Shortly after, Emma woke up. Erik remembered Shaw proudly putting his hands on her shoulders and saying in that…quiet  _voice_ that Erik could never forget. 

_“I think we have a winner.”_

   Erik was disturbed by it…and then he asked Shaw what it really was. He said it was a fight in the point between two minds. It was how a telepath took  **control**  of someone. It lasted for however long it needed to last. The stronger the mind, the harder it was to fully dominate it. It was like a pilot getting into a plane for the first time and shooting for the stars. 

    They had the choice in the end to control them….or kill them. A dominating mind  **always** won. It was easy for a telepath to control someone who wasn’t like them, but for someone who shared their ability it was a challenge. In a way, the exchange strengthened the victor, like they absorbed some of the other person’s consciousness and power to read thoughts on a greater scale.

   Shaw was quite proud of the fact that he had found someone with such a mind.  

   “I have to go,” said Alex, interrupting Erik’s ‘trip’ down memory lane. “Nurse…Call me if anything changes…Actually just call me at five, if you can. I’ll be back. Nice to see you again, Erik.”

    “Can I….,” Erik looked at the nurse, clearing his throat and trying again. “Can I have a moment with him alone?”

   “Sure,” Claire replied. “Nice to meet you, Erik.”

   She disappeared and Erik slowly took a few steps towards the bed. Charles’s image flashed before his mind, replacing with young Skylar. Skylar looked nothing like Charles. His eyes were brown and his hair was blonde. He had a freckled, youthful face.

    Yet as he stared at Charles, lying there…motionless, he was just like the boy that Emma killed. It was her first kill.

   “Charles…,” said Erik softly. “I’m… sorry…I got you twisted up in this mess. I don’t know if you can hear me… but  _know_ …that I’m here …and I won’t  **let** her hurt you. I promise you this…with every part of me…I _will_ stop her.”

  Erik couldn’t stand it anymore. The reality of the situation was starting to dawn on him and for the first time, he felt real fear. He could protect Charles physically. He always worried for him no matter what, of course…but this was different. He could not protect Charles’s mind with his capability.

   He took a hold of the detective’s hand, feeling how cold it felt. He didn’t have much time before Emma destroyed him completely.

   “I’m coming for you, Charles…Fight with everything you have…Just give me _time._ That’s all I’m asking for,” said Erik, reluctantly letting him go. “You mean…a lot to people. You may not know it now…but you do. You give them a chance…to hope.”

  He didn’t know if he was speaking to a wall right now, if Charles could even hear him. He didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was going to put an end to this. _Once and for all._


	16. Void

  
  “No…,” Charles's voice started out weak, feeble…broken. He could hear whispering he didn’t understand starting in his mind like a hundred minds speaking directly to him at once. He felt despair, rage…sorrow…happiness. All of it flooded him. Too much...It was too much. He wanted to shut it off, but he couldn't. His heart ached for the suffering he felt in each voice, filled with an overwhelming desire to put an end to it.

  “ **I SAID NO**!” The last words shouted, and he felt a sliver of strength return to him. His eyes opened and he saw Jason breaking apart like glass, shattering into hundreds of pieces and disintegrating along with everything around him.  

   Charles was breathing hard, each breath a knife in his chest as he saw flecks of white from where Jason and his half of the midway point had been floating through the air like tiny lights. There was the faintest whistling sound and an icy breeze that followed.

    And then silence. The air stilled around him. He was alone in his Father's study. Slowly, Charles began to stand upright, using the support of the desk.

    Jason.

   He was gone…but even then, Charles felt the faintest trace of his mental assault before. He wasn't gone. Whatever Charles had done to him to cause his disappearance was only temporary. 

   Charles didn't know how long he had. But he had to get out of here before Jason found him again. He _had_ to find a place where the other telepath couldn't reach.

   He darted for the door, expecting the long hallway in his old home to greet him and finding something else entirely. It was his office at work, except he had never really seen it this way. All of his belongings were missing. Dust was collected on the computer like it had never been touched. No papers or journals where he kept his notes in stacks at the corner...Empty shelves and blank portraits with black canvases on the walls. 

 Jason had said that his mind had sought a comfortable place…Yet he felt no comfort from this place. The windows he had to the outside displayed a darkening black sky with storm clouds on the horizon. 

  “Is...anyone here?” Charles called…and he heard his voice as the question repeated a few times. The air was dense here, an artificial layer of white mist steaming from the corners, pooling around his feet. 

  And no one answered him.

   He started walking forward, away from his office door towards Alex’s....Foolish...foolish to think he'd find his friend, and yet the sight of his partner's cleared desk and vacant chair did nothing to ease his heart.

   “I don’t understand,” said Charles out loud.

    Had he not escaped?

    Why wasn’t this over? Why hadn’t he woken up? Jason’s threat that this could take hours, days….but what if he **never** woke up?

  Dread started to fill him again, choking him, making it harder and harder to breathe as he faced that reality. He was going to stay locked inside of his own mind forever. His hands went through his hair, pulling incessantly. This was how he was going to die. Strange….maybe it wasn’t so bad. So few people died in their sleep. That’s what he was doing on the outside, wasn’t it? Sleeping?

  He sat down next to Alex’s desk, taking in the emptiness as he put his head between raised knees. Maybe he was lucky.

* * *

    Erik turned and left Charles’s room, making his way down the hall, and stopping midway to the exit to take out his phone and dial Raven.

   “Anything going on at the station?” Erik asked.

   “You have no idea how uncomfortable it is being here,” said Raven cuttingly. “..Seriously, Erik. It’s like asking for a ticket.”

  “Or a jail sentence,” Hank added in the background.

   “One  _could_  argue you’re in the safest place possible,” Erik answered her.

   “One could argue that I **hate**  you,” She snapped back.

   “I have something to take care of here,” said Erik, not in the mood for jokes. There was something tense in Erik’s voice that Raven didn’t miss. It was hard to hear if you didn’t know him well. Something was wrong. The way he rushed out, the unwillingness to speak more on it...

 Suddenly Raven felt like she was treading on some kind of secret as Erik went on. “I’ll be there soon.”

   “Yeah that’s going to make this lots better,” She deadpanned.

   “He’s the only lead we….,” Erik trailed off as he picked up on someone coming up behind him. It was a short man with a taller brown-haired lady. Neither of them were being very conspicuous as they passed Erik, pretending like they were a couple huddled together because it was cold.

   Erik would have ignored them had it not been for two things: their heartbeats were getting increasingly rapid and they mentioned one word that Erik almost completely forgot in the midst of all this.

   “Fisk is on this floor, isn’t he?”

    _Fisk._

  “Stay there. Looks like I found another lead. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Erik finished off the call and hung up on Raven. He looked back into Charles’s room a final time, even taking a step towards it instead of heading in the direction he meant to go…but he controlled himself, following the couple at a safe distance.

  There was so much activity in this place. Multiple doctors, multiple nurses moving beds and getting into elevators. No one really paid attention to him. He was about twenty steps behind the couple when they stopped in front of a room with two men in suits guarding it. He had noticed the rooms were getting better. What were these? The presidential suites of the hospital?

   A doctor about his age came towards him. Erik watched him the entire time, concentrated on his calmed heartbeat as he slipped inside of an empty room that Erik had already passed. Erik took a few steps backwards, watching him take out a cigarette and take a long drag from the end of it. Guess he needed a minute.

  This place was too intense. It reeked of death. It’s why Erik hated it. He couldn’t blame him for needing to get away.

  Unfortunately, his break would have to be cut short. Erik unlocked the door behind him with a pass of his hand, the metal sliding back. The doctor heard the sound, turning around, but Erik opened the door with such force that it clipped the poor doctor right in the head. He’d have a horrible forehead bruise when he woke up, but it was necessary.

   Moments later, he emerged with the doctor’s clothes on and a face mask over his face with straps around his ears. He hadn’t exactly switched clothes. His own were now stashed in the bathroom of that room while the unconscious doctor was down to his underwear on the bed where Erik had moved him. The assassin had parted his hair, even placed the doctor’s glasses over his eyes which was already starting to give him a headache as he moved down the hall.

  His badge had said his name was Dr. Duval.

   The two guards eyed him but not suspiciously.

   “The onsite nurse asked me to check on him. Do you mind?” Erik asked in a polite voice. The bigger one with a balding head nodded to the other. Erik gave a small smile before walking in.

  He only needed a few minutes after all.

    Fisk was awake when Erik laid eyes on him, sitting up. A table was by his bed full of an empty tray of food. By the lingering scent, this wasn’t hospital food but something probably made fresh from an upscale Italian restaurant.

   His gaze turned icy on Erik. “I thought I told the nurse I wanted some…privacy. You people are usually a little more respectful.”

   Erik removed his glasses, placing them in the chest pocket. “I’m not here for that.”

   Something flickered in Fisk’s expression as he looked over Erik, stopping short at his eyes, the only visible part of his face. “…Have I seen you before?”

   “No.” Erik stepped closer. He could see cuts on Fisk’s face. One arm was in a sling underneath the sheets.

   Erik cut straight to the chase. His hand raised, an a drawer next to him automatically opened, scalpel flying to his palm. He closed his fingers around it and lunged for Fisk. Fisk moved too, glancing at the button on the side of his bed, but at the same time, the straps on his bed, loose a second ago, secured themselves on Fisk’s elbows and wrists, immobilizing him.

  The assassin pressed the blade to Fisk’s neck, not applying enough pressure to break skin just yet. “…Here’s how this is going to work. You’re a man who likes to take charge, keep control of the situation. I’m the same type. I want you to understand that right now, at this moment, _I’m the one in charge._ Do you understand?”

   Fisk didn’t move, just glared openly at the assassin, his breath coming out through his nostrils.

   “I want you to say it back to me,” said Erik softly.

    “…You’re in charge,” said Fisk slowly. Defiance flickered in Fisk’s expression. “… _For now_.”

    “Good. That’s good.”

   “Who are you?” Fisk asked in a shaky voice.

   “…I’m the one who blew up your shipment,” said Erik openly.

   Fisk’s eyes widened, his teeth coming together in an audible snap. “...You did _what._ ”

   “You heard me right. I’m going to remove this blade and you’re going to calm down, we clear?” Erik asked, glancing at the heart monitor.

   Fisk nodded slowly and Erik pulled the scalpel away, placing it inside his coat.

   “You blew up my shipment?” Fisk repeated quietly

   Erik had to sympathize with the Kingpin. It was probably not often that the person behind an attack came out will full confidence and admittance. That was like asking for the bullet to the head outright.  

    He said nothing in response to the question, letting the silence speak for him.

   “ I assume you’re here to finish the job,” said Fisk in his gravelly tone. Everything he said sounded like a growl.

   “ That’d be an easy assumption to make. Your contract still stands. Someone’s going to come for you, eventually I’m sure. I’m all the heads up, you’re going to get on that,” said Erik. “But it’s not me. I have bigger fish to worry about…” His eyebrow raised at the larger man. “…figuratively.”

   Fisk looked around at the state of himself, strapped to the bed, the scalpel in Erik’s hand and he connected the two together. “You’re a mutant.”

   Erik’s head tilted. “You know my organization?”

   “I’ve been aware of your presence here for some time,” said Fisk vaguely.

   “That’s why you’ve turned to the Hand, I’m assuming,” Erik answered, nodding to himself. “…Not wise, Kingpin. Countering with them? The Hand always demands payment for their services.”

    “I couldn’t be sure why you were here,”

   “Looks like they chose _not_ to protect you,” said Erik.

   “Or they underestimated you,” Fisk stated. “Like I did. Coming out in public may be seen as a mistake…but that’s not a viewpoint I agree with. You would have shown your face….and your appearance here proves that.”

   “I’m not here to finish the organization’s contract, Fisk,” said Erik, smiling at him. “I’m here for Emma Frost.”

   “The Deputy Director of the FBI?” said Fisk, starting to laugh. “There’s a hit on her? Your organization…has some ambition.”

   “You know everything about the underground syndicate. You know about me,” Erik went on, not derailed by Fisk’s amusement. “…I think you know where she is.”

   “I know where she is but what makes you think I’m going to tell  _you_ anything?”

   Erik was 0 for patience. He closed the distance between Fisk and himself once again and pressed the blade to the Kingpin’s neck. This time, blood was drawn even as the other man tried to push his head away. He could feel the sting and the trail going down his throat.

   “Because the only thing stopping me from gouging your brains out,  _is this information_. You want to keep breathing, then you talk. I’ll liven your contract, get paid  _millions_ on your death and  **walk** without a single regret. And _believe_  me when I say….,” Erik inhaled sharply, his voice a snarl. “….that I won’t  **need** to blow up your  _fucking_ building to make your death painful.” 

   Fisk was breathing hard again, his heartrate which had calmed down minutely was climbing back up and if it went any faster, he’d alert the real staff outside. Fisk had his pride and Erik was wounding it, but what choice did he have? 

   He didn’t want to tell, not because he was protecting Emma, but because information was power…and he had no collateral to play in this game. His only card was his life and he  _knew_ , staring in to Erik’s blazing blue eyes, he knew that this man had  _no_  problem taking that card away. 

    Whatever reason he was choosing to find the second highest ranking officer in the FBI was a strong enough reason to risk everything.

  And Fisk knew that because he believed his existence to be vital to the underground. He did not overstate himself, it was merely fact. There would be chaos…war without him there to ground it.

   “She’s here. In Manhattan. The building she’s in finished renovating this week. It used to be called The Liberty Plaza,”

  “What’s she calling it now?”

   “The Diamond Towers.”

   Typical.

   “165 Broadway.”

   Erik looked at Fisk for the longest moment before slowly pushing off him.

   “Much obliged,” He waved the scalpel around before tucking in one sleeve and wiping his fingerprints off the blade before placing it on Fisk’s rolling table. He turned around and made for the door, picking his glasses out of the pocket and sliding them back on.

   He should have expected that Fisk wouldn’t let him go without some sort of parting words.

    “….Take this as you want it…assassin…but if I ever find out you stepped foot in Hells Kitchen…you won’t find me at a **disadvantage** as you did today,”

   “I would hope not…Kingpin,”

   Erik left him there, smiling at the two bodyguards in that overly polite way before heading back to the hall. The first thing he did before retreating into the room with the unconscious doctor was send a swift text to Raven’s phone.

   [ sms: Raven ] : Head home. I found her location.


	17. The Calm Before The...

   It was a quarter past 10:30 when movement happened.

  Raven had been napping in the passenger seat and Hank was quick to lightly nudge Raven’s arm to rouse her.

   “Hold up…That’s him. Raven, that’s him,” said Hank.

   Raven opened her eyes and followed where he was pointing. She squinted to the figure that was leaving the building and heading towards the parking lot. Both of them sat up in their seats to watch as he got into a black volvo and started getting back on the street.

   “We gotta follow him,” said Hank, starting up the engine and getting out of park.

   “How do we even know that he’s going to lead us to Emma?” Raven asked.

   “Only one way to find out,” said Hank. He didn’t know just  _how_ Emma was being able to control his mind from so far away, but there had to be a reason. Something was  **enhancing** her telepathic reach and that was terrifying. They must have wanted Charles to enhance the reach even further.

  But he wouldn’t tell Erik that, because more than likely the other had already surmised as much. It was the reason he was fighting so hard to stop it.

   He kept a two car distance from Styker as he stayed on his trail. There was a few hisses from Raven as he made turns. That was the problem with New York City. Things were so close together and traffic was unanimously bad at all times of the day. But he kept with him as the man took them out of the downtown area to a slew of apartment buildings, hinging near Hells Kitchen.

   Finally, he stopped and parked, getting out to approach a white and black building. A first floor condo. Lucky.

    Hank parked as well across the street from him. There was activity going around them, young children playing baseball, jump rope and hopscotch in the street. There must have been a school or daycare nearby. They watched Stryker approach his door and disappear inside.

   “Shit,” Raven murmured, pointing to the sign in Stryker’s little mini-garden. First Security. 24 Hour Surveillance.

   “I can disable that remotely. But only for a short time before it’ll boot up again,” Hank explained. “Erik could probably destroy it altogether. Let’s wait for-“

   “We’re not going to wait around. Emma could be in there,” said Raven. “This is the only chance we have.”

   “We need Erik,” said Hank imploringly.

   “No, we do not,” said Raven. Hank thought he detected a note of bitterness in her tone. Apparently, the sudden radio silence from her partner the last few days had been getting to her.

  “There’s no time for this, Raven. Think for a second. How are we supposed to do this without Erik? It’s his contract. You honestly think we stand a chance against Emma? By ourselves?”

   “I  _am_  thinking about this,” said Raven through her teeth. “...I’m thinking about this logically. Are you? I’m thinking about the fact that Emma became a live contract after Fisk’s fell through. I’m thinking about how the hell Emma even knew we had Fisk as a contract and how she _knew_  Mitchell was going to strike at Fisk last night. I’m thinking about the very  _real_ possibility that she’s got eyes all over the city, how even  **Shaw**  with every single one of us at his arsenal cannot hope to fight that kind of…power. Are _you_  thinking about that? Because I am. Now tell me, is  _Erik_ thinking about that?”

   Hank gawked at her for a moment…opening and closing his mouth. She was scared. Just as much as he was.

   “….It’s now or never, Hank. Erik has a strong mind…but he has to know this is a losing battle. He expects to fail. Just think about what would happen if Erik was sitting in the car with us right now,” said Raven, glancing behind her at the empty backseat.

   Hank could picture it. If Erik was here, he’d tell them to stay behind while he handled it…He’d probably even tell them to drive off and wait for his call. They knew him well enough to know that. He cared so little of the people he had to kill, their marks, the humans of the city and even Shaw himself. But that sliver of compassion, tolerance,  _whatever_ he had for Hank and Raven would keep him from endangering them. It was clear when he separated from Raven even with the injury to undertake the task of finding Jason by himself.

   Shaw’s own words played back in his mind.

_“Erik…I’ve given you enough free reign. You’ve been a valuable asset. But you put more than yourself at risk going back. Think of Raven. Think of Hank. Your **friends.** You’ve grown to like them, have you not?”_

   “He cares about us, you know,” said Hank quietly.  “I’m starting to…see how he is…with the people he cares for. He’ll do everything he can for them.”

   “I know,” said Raven. 

  She didn’t know about Charles. And maybe that was because even Erik would probably speak to her about him the same way he spoke to Hank about it. A whole lot of nothing…a whole lot of circles.

   “I’d do the same for him. In a heartbeat,” said Raven, shaking her head. Her attention was returned to the apartment. “Let’s do this. No remote shutdown. She’s going to find out sooner or later.”

   “We’ll do it your way,” Hank agreed.

   They left the car, but as soon as Raven reached Hank’s side, she had changed her form to none other than Emma Frost herself, the tall, statuesque figure, the blonde hair clipped up in a bun and the white blazer and skirt to match.

  Hank jumped at the sight. “Jesus, FUCK!!”

   “I have a plan,” said Raven in Emma’s deeper, richer tone.

   “Yeah, obviously,” said Hank, collecting himself with a deep breath.

   She walked ahead of him, proceeding to climb up the few stairs and knock on the door. It took a few minutes then finally Stryker opened the door. His eyes widened on Emma, only for her.

  Such an enraptured expression came upon his face, then he smiled, dazed.

  “Ms. Frost,” He said, still smiling in that unusual way.

   “Yes,” said Raven, clearing her throat when the ‘high and mighty’ part sounded off.

  “Please come in,” said Stryker, moving aside to let her inside. He wasn’t thrown by her appearance in the slightest. She visited him often.

   Raven and Hank stepped inside. Stryker’s home was not completely abnormal. There was a living room in plain sight in good shape and a kitchen behind it, even an upstairs that probably led to a single bedroom.

   Though things looked…untouched. Dust was starting to collect on the fireplace, on the lampshade and even on the sofas themselves. Things were unused. Looking at Stryker’s own appearance, the unshaven look with bags heavy under his eyes…he matched his household.

  There was something haunted about this place that set the two of them on edge.

   And there was an odd buzzing sound coming from the kitchen. It could have been a broken air conditioner or fridge, but it was loud. How Stryker could live with this kind of noise was beyond anyone.

   Hank took it upon himself to walk past Stryker into the kitchen, the noise growing louder and louder as he did.

   Stryker took absolutely no notice of Hank. Hank could have been invisible. “Should I get you some coffee, Ms. Frost?”

   “That won’t be necessary,” said Raven shortly, keeping an eye on Hank as he walked past the other man. “I’m actually more concerned with…what I’ve been…telling you. Can you remind me what our last conversation was about?”

    _Smooth._ Hank thought, throwing a furtive glance at Raven, before continuing onward. He found nothing in the kitchen, not in direct sight anyway. It was then that Hank realized the sound was actually coming from above him. Stryker’s bedroom must have been just above the kitchen.

     “You called me last night, Ms. Frost,” said Stryker robotically, but then that blissful smile returned. “You told me to keep up the good work.”

    “Did I? I’m so thoughtful,” Raven probed. “What else did we talk about?”

   “You were going to come in soon to check on the artifact you wanted me to hold onto,” said Stryker, a semblance of himself seemed to return, head tilting at her question. She had obviously never needed this much clarification.

  Raven didn’t know how long this stupor would last. She watched Hank return to them, give her a quick look before heading up the stairs.

  “Well, I’m glad to know it’s in good care,” said Raven, still having no idea what he was talking about but nodding at Hank over Stryker’s shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me more about it?”

   Their conversation continued in the distance while Hank made it to the top step and slipped into the bedroom. Like much of downstairs, this place looked unused. The bed was made. There was a picture of a woman and a child on his dresser table, but there was no sign that any other person lived here besides Stryker himself.

   But Hank barely paid attention, his eyes on something blinking at him from the top of the dresser. It was a black metal shaped like a cross or a x, holding up what looked to be a floating, semi-transparent diamond. The buzzing sound was coming from it. Hank may not have been trained like Erik and Raven had in adapting the five senses to their peak, but even he could hear it. He approached it, almost mesmerized.

  “There we go,” said Hank under his breath. He took out Raven`s phone and took a picture before going back to marveling at it.

   “What are you doing?” Raven’s voice came from the doorway. She had gone back to her natural blue form.

   Hank moved around to let her see. “Take a look.”

   She came closer, staring at the device. “I guess this is the artifact he was harping on about. What is it?”

   “I don’t know. It looks like it took a lot of work. It’s emitting a frequency under twenty hertz. Can’t you hear it?”

    She stayed silent for a moment. “She’s singing.”

   “What?”

   “Emma. She’s singing. That’s what I hear.”

   Damn her hearing was good. Hank looked at her in awe. “Raven, can you hear her, like perfectly clear?”

   “I wouldn’t say that. I have an impulse to turn it up when I hear it. I can’t make out the words. Not sure what she’s saying,” said Raven, cupping her ear briefly then shaking her head. “Sorry, Hank.”

   “Sorry? What? No! This is awesome! You hearing it means you can make sense of it, it’s not just noise,” said Hank.

   “It’s all just noise,” said Raven.

   “No! If you can make sense of something with your brain, then it makes it easier to resist. Make sense?”

   “…I guess,”

   “Raven, there’s tons of theories about infrasounds that produce soundwaves below normal frequency. They’ve done studies it can very subtly affect human behavior. You could be coerced into feeling all sorts of things like fear, anxiety, anger…,” Hank trailed off.

   “Bliss,” said Raven, looking behind her to indicate Stryker.

   Hank nodded. “He’s been exposed to this for days…weeks…and it’s crept on him, slowly.”

   “That’s terrible,” Raven shook her head, expression falling into sympathy.

   “Yeah…Where is he, by the way?”

   “Oh, I hit him. Really hard with my shoe,” said Raven casually. “He passed out.”

   “Raven…,”

   “We need to get this thing out of here,” said Raven, nodding at the device. “Knowing her, she’s probably got someone watching this house. We don’t have a lot of time.”

 The better idea would be to destroy it completely. But missing out on tech like this was a sin against everything Hank stood for. He picked it up, feeling it was surprisingly light. The display of the diamond disappeared entirely. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  He placed the device in his jacket pocket and started to follow Raven down the stairs. She stopped mid way, her form changing back to Emma, growing slightly taller than him. He didn’t like being downstairs. There was nothing relaxing about being upstairs, but he didn’t like being in Stryker’s presence.

   He was sitting on the dinner table now, palms flat on the surface and head bowed. It was a strange position, like a robot who was waiting to be reactivated.

   Hank took a firm grip on Raven’s arm. “Let’s go.”

   “Hold on,” She whispered. “We should take him with us. He may know more.”

   “What, we’re resorting to kidnapping now?” Hank asked sarcastically. “We’re leaving him. His disappearance will be noticed.”

   Raven didn’t move at Hank’s incessant pulling, just watched Captain Stryker before she moved to approach him, Hank hissing her name behind her.

   “Captain,” Raven said in a calm tone, taking the seat opposite him.

   Stryker looked up. “….Director Frost….how can I assist you today?”

   “I need you to come with me,” said Raven.

   Stryker’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion marring his pale face. “….Leave? With you?”

   “Yes,” Raven said with a glance at Hank who looked at her uneasily.

   “You’ve never asked me to leave before,” said Stryker slowly.

    “I’m asking you now,”

   “But…,” Stryker’s face crumpled in frustration. “You’ve… _never_ said that before. You said…You said I can't…leave.”

   Hank’s hand came down on Raven’s shoulder just as Stryker covered his forehead with his hand. “We gotta go. He’s unstable.”

   “Captain, look at me,” said Raven, shaking off Hank’s touch to extend her hands towards the Captain. “Calm down.”

   She touched him, the lightest brush of her fingertips over his knuckles.

   That turned out to be the biggest mistake.

    His eyes widened, blood vessels seeming to pop. In that few seconds, the glazed over look disappeared and he finally gained clarity. As he focused on Raven, he lunged forward and tackled her, throwing the table over. His hands found her throat, clutching tight as he straddled her, crushing her windpipe.

   She let out a few choked gasps before a hand gripped Stryker’s jacket with surprising strength and threw him from Raven into a nearby wall. His back hit it first with a resounding crash, knocking a few paintings and pictures of family off the walls before he slid down, unconscious once more, a new cut on his forehead as a shelf above his head rattled, letting loose one of the picture frames on top of him.

   “We’re leaving,” Hank snarled, pulling Raven up to her feet and darting for the door.

   Raven accepted his hand and took the lead out the door. Outside there was complete ignorance, maybe one or two glances from the children playing outside, but nothing else.

   “Text from Erik. Looks like he’s got a location,” Raven read when they got inside the car.

   “Let’s move,”

__________

   It was a quarter past noon when they got back to Erik’s loft. The assassin was home, his car sitting in the driveway. With how tense he sounded on the phone, Raven was surprised he didn’t leave the engine running so they could leave immediately.

  She expected him to be getting things ready when they entered, the door being left unlocked.

   “Unlocked?” Hank asked, looking back. “Careless as ever.”

   Erik had his back to them, standing in the living room and facing the patio window where he had an excellent view of New York City as a whole. Somehow it was hard to believe he was just admiring the view. He didn’t even turn when they walked in, and his arm was bent, holding a drink no doubt.

  “Erik?” Raven called, taking a few hesitant steps towards him.

  There was no point in drinking. His tolerance would be too high to be actually affected by the drink, but it was surprising to see him resort to that measure regardless. Raven had only seen him pushed that far in the most stressful of situations.

   He turned his head to the side. “What did you find?”

   “We found…something…Can’t really tell you what it does other than sing…but Hank has a theory,” said Raven, indicating the man behind her.

   “Not a theory. This is confirmed. Come here, Erik,” said Hank. He waited for the assassin to oblige him. When Erik came into view, it was kind of surprising to find how much he actually resembled Stryker. The survival of Warhawk’s explosives, the lack of sleep thereafter. He looked like a mess. Even his hair which was usually perfectly combed looked haywire, but not in an unattractive way.

   “Are you…,” Hank trailed off, wanting to ask the assassin if he was all right, but there was a sharp gleam in his eye and the tiniest shake of his head that told Hank not to even bother asking.

   Hank cleared his throat instead and set the flat, cross-shaped metallic device in front of Erik on the counter. “…This is what we found. It was emitting some kind of…music at low frequency. Here, let me turn it on…”

   He turned it over and something clicked, the diamond on display once more. There was a low hum and the music began to play. Erik’s head tilted at it.

   “It’s Emma,” Erik remarked.

   “She’s singing,” said Raven almost distastefully from Erik’s left.

   “She’s singing  _Weep You No More, Sad Fountains_ ,” said Erik.

   “What’s that?” Raven asked.

   Erik’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his neck. “Nothing.”

   “Nu uh. That’s a reaction if I ever saw one,” said Raven, quick to call him out on his bullshit. “You know that song. Why?”

   Erik closed his eyes briefly before reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “She…used to sing it to herself when she was scared…I heard it so often…she started to sing it to me too…to calm me down when I had my…claustrophobic episodes.”

 _Heaven's sun doth gently waste._  
But my sun's heavenly eyes  
View not your weeping  
That now lies sleeping,  
Softly, now softly lies  
Sleeping.

   Hank waited a moment. “It is very soothing.”

   “ No, it’s not,” Erik lied. “ Just tell me what this thing is doing and why it’s singing.”

   “Well, I’m surprised you can even hear it. Normal people…IE: Me…can’t really. I mean I can make out some of it…but not all. It’s a very…very low frequency of sound. Below normal frequency. I’m sure you’ve heard of the theory that infrasounds can subtly influence the mind,” said Hank.

   Erik crossed his arms. “Yes.”

   “Well, think of this thing as a conduit of sorts…like a transmitter. It seems to enhance her telepathic reach by  a substantial amount. Everyone who comes in contact with it, gets put under its control slowly and steadily,” said Hank, nodding towards Raven. “Right, Raven? You should have seen Stryker, Erik. He was completely out of his mind. I think we got him to snap out of it by the end but…”

   Hank kept going while Erik kept thinking. There wasn’t a device like this in the hospital…at least Erik didn’t think so. Hank was probably right for the people getting influenced by it…but there was something else.

   “…Is it possible she’s using these as some sort of boost to…reach a particular mind?” Erik asked, his gaze hard on Hank. He knew Hank would piece together what exactly he was asking…and whom he was asking about.

  Hank seemed to think for a moment, a finger tracing his lower lip. “It’s possible.”

   Erik didn’t answer him, just went around the counter to pull more alcohol from the fridge and pour himself another glass. He downed it one large gulp, his expression turning grim as he turned away from the two of them and started approaching the window again.

   “Destroy it,” said Erik without turning.

   “What?” Hank was shocked. “Are you kidding? This kind of tech is…hard to come by. I don’t think anyone has it. We need to send it back to Shaw.”

  “Destroy the **fucking** conduit, Hank,” Erik’s tone gave no room for argument, a fierce scowl on his face as he looked over his shoulder. “She wants to play games. I want her to know I’m serious.”

  “Erik. This is completely against protocol,” Hank argued heatedly. “We need this back with Shaw.”

   Erik clenched his teeth together. He twisted his body around, his hand shooting out towards the device that immediately shattered, the song stopped playing and the image of the diamond disappeared once again.

  “Erik!” Raven cried.

   “I’m done playing games,” said Erik. “I know where Emma is…I met Fisk. He knows where the Deputy Director is hiding. I’m going to find her…and I’m going to kill her.”

   “You can’t be thinking of facing her by yourself,” said Raven.

   Erik just gave her a look, eyebrow raised before he disappeared into his bedroom to retrieve his equipment and gear, closing the door behind him. He turned out the conversation that was happening in the next room as Raven and Hank both expressed concerns for his wellbeing. Neither of them really knew what was going on with him…Well, Hank had an idea, but screw Hank and his observations.  

  The bottom line was that Emma was using these devices as a means to crawl in Charles’s head and take control of him without even having to be close to him. 

  Past friendship or not, she had to die.

   He placed several blades inside of his uniform this time, instead of the single one that Hank had brought him last night for the fight against Mitchell. Emma would try to crawl in his head. He wasn’t going to let her. If she was focused on Charles, that meant her mind was occupied…and this was the perfect time to catch her off guard and go for the kill.

  The assassin stepped out in full uniform, his eyes sweeping over Hank and Raven who were standing by the door.

   “You’re not coming with me,” said Erik firmly.

    “Like hell,” said Raven, stepping forward. “I’m your partner. Your second. I’d  _die_ to protect you, Erik. I know you’d do the same for me.” 

   “You’re not going to die for  _me_ ,” Erik growled. “This is my fight.” 

   “No…It’s  **our** fight. We agreed to help you,” said Raven.

   Hank stepped forward. “ Until the very end.”

   Erik looked between the two of them, his lips twitching just the slightest. “…You’re both stubborn as all hell, but… _fine._ ”

* * *

 

    They waited until nightfall. Hank was stubbornly trying to piece together the conduit that Erik had destroyed and Raven was sparring with Erik in his room. They had moved everything to make room for it. Maybe it was all pointless. Maybe a fight wasn’t what it was going to come to if Emma got close enough. She had that kind of power, she always did. Shaw loved talking about her when she was still apart of their organization. She was one of his favorites, much like Erik was now.

  He had taught her everything he knew in hand to hand combat and stealth training and that was as far as the lessons went. After that, she had become his equal. They weren’t partners like Raven had become, but she had accompanied him on a few missions before she disappeared entirely…to join Jason.

   Emma was the only one…who had ever gotten into his head. It was never intentional. She said his thoughts were loud, his dreams were loud. It was her favorite phrase to use when telling him why she heard his thoughts better than others.

   _Quiet people have the loudest minds._  

That was in the past, but it still meant something for this situation. Mental barriers or not, she wouldn’t have a problem chipping away at them and destroying them so she could get her claws deep into his head.

   He didn’t know why she was doing this…and frankly, he didn’t care. She made this personal. She went after someone he…cared for.

    It was around six that Erik stopped the sparring match with Raven, taking her hand after she had gotten him flat on his back with a blow to the chest.

    “We have to go,” said Erik.

    “I know,” said Raven.

    Hank appeared at the doorway. “I got something for you, Erik. Come here.”

   Erik followed him out, wiping sweat from his face and replacing the mask over his mouth and nose. Hank led him over to the HankSpy sitting now on the counter. Erik let out a frustrated groan but Hank waved him off.

   “I managed to get the conduit working for a minute. The HankSpy has been formatted to recognize the sound frequency it emits. I can lock onto another one of its’ kind when you’re in there,”

   “I thought I told you I wanted that thing broken,” said Erik angrily.

   “Calm down. It is broken,” said Hank, waving him off. “It worked for like a minute.”

   “You’re staying in the car, you know that, right?”

   “Yeah…yeah…,” said Hank.

   “What’s the plan, Erik?” Raven asked, coming up to stand next to him.

   “We have to get to whatever floor the conduit is. You’re going to go in as Emma,” said Erik, looking at her.

    “May as well start wearing her permanently,” said Raven with a furtive glance at Hank. “Wouldn’t be the first time today.”

   “I’ll come with you. Back you up. People won’t question the Deputy Director and who’s with her,” Erik continued.

   “ And if someone’s privy to Emma’s former…association?” Hank questioned. “Someone might recognize you’re part of the organization.”

   “Doesn’t matter,” said Raven. “They won’t question her…or…me.”

   “There’s another glaring flaw…If Emma is there? Waiting for us?”

   “She won’t be,” said Erik, turning his back on the two of them. “At least not…in the traditional sense. Probably not...awake, anyway.”

   “What are you talking about, Erik?”

   Erik closed his eyes. Raven’s question stayed unanswered for a beat and then the assassin spoke, feeling it was no longer…beneficial to keep her in the dark about it.

   “Emma is conducting a telepathic battle with Charles Xavier. She’s inside of his mind right now…fighting to take control of it,”

   “…Charles…Your mark, Charles?” Raven asked quietly.

   Erik nodded once, turning his head in her direction. “You remember Skylar.”

   “She killed him,” said Raven, nodding. Understanding dawned on her and her expression twisted. “…You rushed out of here this morning. The detective is in a coma, isn’t he?”

   “I don’t have time for your judgments,” said Erik, turning around. “We have to stop her before she takes full control.”

   “No,” Raven scoffed. “We need to let her do whatever the fuck she wants to the detective, then we can make our move. Let her finish the job.”

   “Raven…,” Hank implored, reaching forward to take her arm. “Just listen for a min-“

   “No, you listen!” Raven shouted, wrenching herself away from him. “You weren’t there. We were all worried. All of us. When we tried to wake Skylar up…something came out. A blast…some kind of… _wave._ I don’t know. But it wiped out…half of our team. You remember, Erik? Janos? Selene? Angel? All of them…collapsed…they were all…brain-dead. All they did was try to stop it. Or have you forgotten this, already, Erik?”

   Erik’s face was unreadable as he answered. “…They were weak and  **died** weak. What is your point.” 

   “My  _point_?” Raven’s eyebrow shot up. “My point is...that Emma is probably a hundred times stronger with these conduits helping her out. My point is that even without them, her power has increased. My point…is that we’re dealing with another telepath. A not-teenage telepath at that.  They could take out half the city if we try to stop whatever…transition is happening. Maybe more than half. Maybe all of New York.”

   “Erik…,” said Hank slowly. “Maybe we should listen to her. The risk is too-”

   “I don’t care for an **infestation**  of  _humans_  sleeping permanently. If you’re trying to appeal to my sentiment, Raven…You’re appealing to the wrong person,” said Erik, ignoring Hank. 

   “And what about you? What about Hank? What about me? We plan on being the closest ones to this tidal wave of death, right? You think we’re not going to be the  _first_  ones to go? Don’t you care?”

   “The door’s right there,” said Erik, glancing over her shoulder at it. “You want to run back to the safety of Shaw’s mansion, do so.”

   “No,” Raven answered her own question. “You don’t care. You don’t care about anything but your own interests, your own agenda. It’s all about you and what  _you_ want to do. It’s all about ---”

   “THIS IS NOT UP FOR DISCUSSION!” Erik roared. Every metallic object in his loft seemed to cave in on itself. A low groan came from the fridge as both doors were impacted like they had just been punched in. The lights flickered just as they had in the hospital, except this time, the metallic screws holding the one above the kitchen came loose and the bulb shattered.

  Erik stepped forward, inches away from Raven, towering over her. “ _I’m going._  I don’t care what you two do. I never asked you to come along. You can go back to Shaw. Tell him what I said. But let him know, I’m taking care of my objective. Emma Frost is going to die.”  

  “This isn’t about Emma,” said Raven, shaking her head, not breaking eye contact as she looked up at him unafraid. She hadn’t flinched at his outburst and she wasn’t flinching now.“…This is about Charles. You’re trying to save him. And you’re putting… _everyone_  at risk for it. Why? What makes him worth that? What makes  _anyone_ …worth that?”

   Erik continued to stare down at her, the silence weighing heavy between them. It wasn’t jealousy…it wasn’t about having Erik to herself, though a long time ago, perhaps…they could have been something had he bothered opening up.

  But now…Now…something had  **broken** between them.

   “So much for dying for me,” said Erik bitterly.

    “…I’d die for you,” Raven told him, trembling slightly as she said it with conviction. “Not for  _him_.”  

   “Then. Leave,” said Erik through his teeth. He tore his gaze from her to Hank, his look  _almost_ apologetic as he left them in the darkness of his own home.

   “Erik! Don’t do this,” said Hank after him. But the door closing behind him with a slam rang only of finality.


	18. Storm Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I know the last few chapters have been just building up...and this one technically counts as well. But rest assured we'll be seeing a reunion soon. Next Chapter in fact. I also want to let you know that the story isn't over yet by a long shot even after this Emma/Jason thing. So hang tight with me :) And thanks for reading.

    Erik didn’t go straight to his destination. He knew time was of the essence, knew that every minute spent was another eternity with Emma for Charles. Time was different down there, it had to be. Two minds working together at once, was almost like massive networks merging all of their stored intelligence to one.

   The hospital was busy when Erik walked in, the receptionist wasn’t even there. And as he made the climb up the stairs to the third floor, he passed up several nurses that paid him no mind. Yet the third floor seemed quieter…muted somehow.

  His mask had been placed inside his coat which he left inside the car. All of his weapons were stored there…in preparation for tonight.  But he didn’t want his weapons right now. He didn’t…want to  _be_ an assassin right now.

   Claire was looking at a computer, monitoring Charles’s vitals when he approached Room 302.

   “Hey…,” said Erik.

    “Hey…Erik, right?” Claire stood up. “Good to see you again. You just missed his partner. He didn’t stay very long.”

   “Really,” Erik feigned surprise, but nodded towards Charles’s room which was dark with the curtains blocking his view of the detective. “How is he? Has his…situation changed?”

   He knew the answer, but even then when Claire shook her head, he felt a sting in his chest.

   “No…Still…the same. Vitals are strong though…that’s a good sign,” She gave him a smile. “Means he’s putting up a fight.”

   “Yeah…he is,” said Erik, placing his hands in his pockets.

    “You two must be really close,” Claire noted.

   “Heh,” Erik scoffed, running his hand through his hair. “I feel like I  **barely**  know him….and yet…this whole situation is depriving me of anything further.”

   “But you care about him,” said Claire. “…That’s good. You know that’s a really powerful sedative. Knowing someone’s out there…waiting for you. That’s not something we can just inject him with.”

   Erik smiled faintly. “….I suppose.”

   She patted his arm. “He’ll make it. And he’ll be so happy to see you when he wakes up…and if you’re not here when he does, then he’ll want to see you.”

   Erik bit his lip. “…I wish I could stay.”

   “Why don’t you talk to him?” She nodded towards the room.

   “Does that actually work? Like can coma patients hear you?”

   “Can’t say. Most of the time, I’d say no,” She grinned. “but…doesn’t hurt, does it?”

   Erik nodded, giving her another smile before stepping further inside the room.

   Again, he hesitated coming close to Charles’s bed, to pulling the curtain back. Irrational fear. This was going to be a success. He had to believe that, or this was all for nothing.

   Slowly, he pulled the curtain back.

   She had been right. He looked just like before, like he was sleeping. The heart monitor was steady…his chest was rising and falling with every breath…but for how long? How much of a fight could he give before it became too much? He could try to retreat…find the parts of his mind that were untouched yet…but they would soon fall into darkness as well. He would be alone…and his mind would close in on its own.

  That was what Emma said happened when Skylar was done for…when she thought she was losing for the briefest moment.

  There was a seat that was probably occupied by Alex next to his bed. His hand found Charles’s.

   “I’m not…good at these things…I think I said that already to your…partner and the nurse,” said Erik slowly. “…I’ve seen death my whole life. I’ve caused a fair share of it…but seeing you like this…something inside me just seems to…break.”

   Erik scoffed, tracing his lip with his other hand as his elbow rested on his knee. “I’m scared…Charles…I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared because what’s happening to you…is because of me.”

   “I don’t….want you to die,” Erik admitted. “…You…brought something in my life I’ve never felt before. You brought….warmth. And I’m selfish enough to want more of it. I want that with you, Charles. I want that warmth…I want that future.”

   Erik licked his lower lip, his voice coming out a whisper as he leaned forward. “ _I’m the one you’re looking for,_  Charles. I’m the one…who killed all of those people. I’m the reason you can’t sleep at night, because you’re  _haunted_  by the memory of those trail of bodies I left behind. I’m the reason…you have a room in your house full of pictures…that you’ve poured over endlessly. I killed all of them…with a smile on my face and song in my heart…because that’s  _all I know how to do._  Everything I’ve ever touched has come to ruin…Everything.”

   “I can’t…let that happen to you…I won’t,” Erik said with more fervor. He lingered for the longest moment, just brushing Charles’s knuckles with his thumb. His jaw tightened as the time seemed to dawn. He heard a distant announcement that visiting hours were over.

   Erik stood, keeping Charles’s hand in his grasp. “…I will save you. I promise. If it takes my life...”

   The assassin leaned down, pressing his lips to Charles’s forehead. “…I promise.”

  The whisper was left like a seal to his words…and reluctantly he let the detective go and turned towards the door, leaving him behind.

* * *

  Conducting an investigation without Charles was a first for Alex. It left him feeling somehow hollow. Charles always helped with clues, helped him think in ways he never could before, helped get into the mind of the suspects so he could better understand motivation and narrow down the people in the investigation. Charles always had a knack for finding out way faster than anyone could ever perceive.

  And yes, primarily because he  _cheated._ He was the first to know, of course, when a person was lying to him, when someone was keeping a secret, trying to desperately to outwardly hide it, but their mind betraying them.

  Alex almost felt like he was walking into this thing blind. Could you blame him? The night was wrought with death and a body count higher than any he had seen before, yet the appearance of the assassin, the very person they were trying to hunt down, threw him off completely. He had risked himself to save Charles, and actually delivered.

 The young detective knew he played a dangerous hand in trusting the man that the deputy director wanted to bring down personally. He knew that…but he had no choice then…and if you asked if he’d do it again, he still would.

  The explosion site had been closed off with red and yellow tape. Police still had the block closed off, but the cut off point was very close and on the sides of the Venetian Tower, there were several people snapping photographs. Reporters were not too far off at the head of the crowds, reporting their coverage, joining in discussions with their respective stations.

 The order was still in place not to release any statements. The Captain had said what needed to be said…despite the knowledge that there was something sinister at work. Everyone knew it…Alex could see the fear reflected on the officers’ faces as he passed them.

  Answers were not easy to give.

  Alex had made it through the crowds, flashing his badge through the windshield at the guard who lifted the yellow tape to let him in. He parked just across from the tower and made his way to the familiar figure of Officer Jenkins from the night before. He was a short, balding man a few years senior to Alex, which probably contributed to his condescending tone whenever he had to look Alex in the face.

  “What have you got for me, here?”

  “Body,” said Jenkins. “ Found it in the dumpster about an hour ago.”

  He started leading Alex away from his car towards an alley way. The darkness provided no help so Jenkins flicked on a flashlight and continued on. He passed the light down the path. Two cops were hovering over the body of an older man with white hair in an unusual black suit with red trim. Blood had trickled down from the middle of his face and dried there. He was lying on his back, legs twisted in an odd way. Alex grabbed a pair of plastic gloves and the flashlight from Jenkins and waved off the two officers around him and reached down to touch his neck. The flesh gave too easily at his touch, head lolling backwards. Broken neck.

  In fact, everything about him looked broken. No flesh visible flesh wounds. Alex touched underneath his shoulder and found that he felt  _heavy._ Much heavier than he should be.

  The clothing…Alex shined a light over it. The material looked like hard, patterned leather…Custom-made perhaps? It looked much like the one the assassin wore last night with the hood pulled back.

  His eyes darted the way they came on the outcrop of the alley and he backtracked a few steps to find a small splash of red sitting in a baseball sized puddle on the concrete.

  “Blood,” Alex mumbled, more to himself, continuing to go backwards until he stopped at a small pile of cement debris seeming to sit by itself next to an impacted black Jetta. He knelt beside the rubble pile and began to clear it, finding a large spider web-shaped crack in the pavement.

  “He was thrown off. Dragged all the way to the dumpster,” Alex told the other man.

  “Thrown off?” Jenkins repeated. “Thrown off where…? You don’t mean…from…up there?”

   Alex glanced upwards. “Check the rooftops.”

  Jenkins took out his radio and pressed it to his lips. “Warrington, have your squad search the rooftops of every building on this block.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alex kept kneeling by the debris until he heard a car pull up. Cameras started clicking and flashes were all over the place when the white Acura stopped just short of where Alex was situated.

 At least that saved him a phone call.

 “Director,” Alex greeted, somewhat stiffly when Emma walked over to him.

   She was wearing a light blue pantsuit with matching heels. This time her long blonde hair had been let loose around her shoulders with small curls framing her face in an attractive sort of way. The expression she wore looked impassive as ever but Alex figured if she flashed a bright smile, she’d look like a plastic barbie doll.

  Behind her was another woman that looked almost exactly like Emma except maybe a few years younger. Really, she could have been her sister with the same shade of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The only difference was in the clothes. The other woman dressed in lavender blazer and black skirt. Her heels, a few inches more than Emma’s gave her the appearance of being exactly Emma’s height.

 Was there a ‘Look-Like-Emma-Frost’ contest that no one was aware of? The younger blonde avoided eye contact completely with Alex, holding a clipboard and looking at Emma expectantly from behind.

  Emma ignored Alex’s stony glare. “Detective. I was hoping to meet you here.”

  “Yeah, it’s not every day a bomb is set off in New York City,” said Alex sarcastically, standing upright.

  “Not every day,” Emma agreed.

  “I assume you’ve already heard what happened to Detective Xavier?” Alex questioned.

  “I’ve heard. I haven’t visited him yet,”

  “Yeah…I imagine a guilty conscience would keep me away too.”

  Emma’s eyebrow shot up. “Pardon me?”

  Alex felt a surge of anger to match her own offense. Honestly speaking, he was amazed at his own bravery. “You assured him that nothing would happen.”

  “Are you  ** _implying_**  something, Detective?” Emma shot back coldly.

  “I should have been with him. I should have…,” Alex took a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment as he worked to calm himself down. “…I could have protected him.”

 “Or you could have ended up in the same situation…or worse,” said Emma. “Be glad you weren’t present, Detective. I had  _no idea_  this was going to happen. Lives were lost. And I take  _no_ pleasure in saying that.”

 Alex fell silent. She was right. He knew that. He had to be grateful that Charles was alive…not the state he was currently in. He was about to open his mouth to tell Emma that he was now unconscious and in a coma that the doctors had no clue what to do with, but he stopped himself. It had only been a day yet…and he had to hope that tomorrow bred the possibility that he would wake up.

  Abruptly, there was a buzzing sound of a cellphone and the girl Emma brought with her turned away from their conversation, muttering an apology under her breath before pressing her phone to her ear. She backed away from their conversation, speaking in a hushed voice to whomever was on the other line.

  Emma and Alex were left standing there in silence.

  “…I’m sorry,” Alex ran his and through his hair, pulling at the locks. “…There’s…a body.”

  “A body?”

  “…Another…body. I think it’s one of the ones we’re looking for…or someone like them, I don’t know,” Alex furrowed his eyebrows in some frustration before nodding behind him. “Follow me.”

  He led her to where the body still lay where Jenkins was hovering over him.

   “Anything on him?”

   “No…Nothing. Looks like he’s a John Doe,” Jenkins replied.

   “Get him back to the lab, I want a name,”

   “Yes, sir,”

   Alex turned to Emma. He was taken slightly aback by the expression on the Director’s face as he shined the light on her. Her eyes were wide in shock, face seeming drained of all color.

  “Are you all right?”

  Emma cleared her throat, recovering herself.  “Fine… _completely_  fine. You’re taking him to the lab? Good…yes…find out who he is.”

 She was already backing up a step. Alex watched as the Emma lookalike popped back up and placed her hand gingerly on the Director’s shoulder, whispering something in her ear. Emma’s expression turned sour. It was an interesting sight to see. The ‘all business’ demeanor was just melting away.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Detective…I have something I need to take care of. I trust you’ll be able to handle things on your own?”

  Alex noted how her voice went a little high in the middle. His eyes darted back and forth between them. “…Yeah…that seems to be my situation for the moment.”

 “Good…Give me a call if you find anything,” Emma told him before turning her back. The two women were side by side, speaking frantically and Alex could only guess what it was all about.

* * *

  The Acura sped down the street as soon as Emma got clear of the Venetian. She cut her gaze to the frightened girl in the passenger seat.

  “Esme, you’re absolutely sure?”

  “Yes, I’m positive. It’s… _him_ ,” said Esme, her hand clamed down on the door handle to brace herself as Emma narrowly missed a sideline crash with a black SUV.

  The Diamond Towers were in sight. Emma swerved the car in front of the entrance and shot out of the car into the building. She knew what she was going to find, but that didn’t make it easier.

  Both of her armed security guards were lying face down on the floor, their throats slit, blood pooling underneath them. She could see the blood trail that only a blade could make leading towards the emergency stairwell at the side of the elevator doors.

  She heard the cool computer voice starting to glitch as it announced what was happening.

    __ _Security Breach...Level Zero. All non-emergency personnel please head to the nearest exit._

  Emma pulled out her phone and shakily speed dialed. A ring. Two rings. Three rings.

   “Director Frost?!” Sage’s voice was panicked and low on the other end.

  “Sage! What happened? Where are you?!”

   “I’m in your office. The emergency power is on…I can….I-I-I can…hear banging. Something’s here. Please…You have to help me.”

  “Stay right there, Sage. Keep talking to me. Listen to my voice. I’m here. I’m coming to you,” Emma assured her. Her eyes flicked to Esme and she placed a hand over the phone. “Esme. Get home. Now.”

  “But…”

  “No. It’s too dangerous for you,” Emma’s voice brokered no room for argument. Esme looked like she was about to retort, but she pursed her lips, giving Emma a curt nod before running back the way they came.

 Emma slammed a fist on the elevator button, the second set opening up just as she went back to Sage on the phone. “I’m in the elevator. I’ll be right there. Just stay calm. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Sage whispered. “I think he’s getting closer…I can…I hear it.”

  “Everything’s going to be fine. You understand?”

  “I understand. Please hurry. He’s-!!!!” Sage’s voice cut off with a gasp. There was a rustling sound and a shriek of surprise, the phone garbling as it passed through the air.

 “Sage!” Emma cried.

  The voice on the other end chuckled. A man’s voice.

   “Top floor, Emma.”

    _Click._

“Damn it!” Emma hissed. The elevator dinged two minutes later on the top floor. She saw the briefest glance of a dark, empty hallway with only the light closest to her was still powered on. Emma shoved herself in the small corner of the elevator in front of the button panel, her back to it as she peered over her shoulder. No sound. Slowly, her hand went to her belt where she withdrew her pistol and clicked the hammer back.

  “I really….wouldn’t do that if I were you,” A voice said on the far end of the hall. Emma immediately recognized it, and her instinct took over. She swiftly turned around and fired off two shots into the darkness. Her bullets echoed as they left the firearm, but there was no connecting sound to indicate they had made contact with anything.

  She quickly went back into cover.

  “Erik,” Emma spoke his name like it was a curse.

  “Emma,” Erik replied, matching her tone.

  “Where’s Sage?”

  “She’s safe as long as you say what I want to hear,”

  “Go to Hell,” Emma snarled, turning the corner again to fire off everything in her pistol. Reason took a backseat to the rage she felt deep inside. She didn’t care if he could deflect it, that he could deflect all of them. This time she didn’t retreat to the corner. She left the safety of the elevator entirely and stood in the hallway in plain sight for her enemy to see. The darkness didn’t frighten her. Not this time.

 And yet as she reached out telepathically, she felt the glimpse into Erik’s mind that his mental barriers allowed. Black thorns growing from a garden of dead foliage, always touched by the winter storm…always. The familiar feeling of loneliness…of  _sorrow_ resonated within her soul. She knew that place…and she tried to slap away the feeling of familiarity that came with it. Through pain, they had companionship, joined survivors in a prison with no escape.

  The immediate retaliation to her shooting came seconds later. One of her bullets whizzed past her ear, causing her hair to shift as it penetrated the elevator wall behind her. The second one was  **precise** , too quick for her to dodge as it pierced through her left shoulder. The force behind it was much more than a gun could ever fire, shoving her entire body back a step.

 The pain was explosive. Emma rocked on her heels before falling forward, hand flying over the new wound that bled freely through her fingers.

  Footsteps…two sets. Then she saw  _him_  emerge from the shadow. His hood was drawn, mask covering his face. He was using Sage as a body shield, one hand pulling her dark hair back so her head was pulled back, the other keeping a long, jagged blade dripping in blood inches away from her neck.

  Emma started to raise her pistol back up.

  Erik clicked his tongue in response. “I said don’t do that. Now…I take it this woman is important to you. Must be one of us. I’m very interested in how quickly you came up here to save her.”

 “I came up here to stop you. You lunatic,” Emma retorted furiously.

 “Really,” Erik mused. “If that’s the case…”

  His blade pressed upon skin with the lightest brush. Sage gasped and closed her eyes in Erik’s grasp. A sliver of blood appeared and began to trickle down in three thin trails.

  “Wait,” Emma held up her pistol to him before turning it upside down and setting it down on the floor between them.

  “There we go,” said Erik approvingly. “You see? You take something of  _mine_ …I take something from you. That’s only fair, right?”

  “I have taken  _nothing_ from you,” Emma spat at him.

  Erik just looked at her while she took labored breaths. Another of her bullets came up from behind him and hovered in front of her face. She flinched but it moved downward, right in front of her heart. Bleeding like this, front and back, there was no way she could shift to her diamond form to render it harmless.

  “No,” Erik agreed with her. “Can’t be you. You would be ‘ ** _asleep_** _’_  if that was the case. But you’re not…which leaves only  _one_  person pulling Detective Xavier into the place between two minds.”

 “Detective Xavier,” Emma said his name with about as much distaste as she said Erik’s. “…Is that who this is about? I had nothing to do with what happened to him.”

  Erik cut his eyes to Sage’s temple, the closest part of her to him. “Sage, tell Director Frost goodbye.”

 “No, WAIT!” Emma cried out. “I swear  _I don’t know_  anything. I swear it on my life. Believe me, Erik.”

 Erik was shaking his head, then he chuckled. “It’s amazing. How good you are at lying. It must be how you got the position you have now. Shaw… or maybe me…You learned well. You might convince the people you work with…but it  _won’t_ convince me. I can hear…your heartbeat. You’re  **frightened** _,_ Emma.”

 “I don’t know anything,” Emma answered him, glancing at the bullet in front of her then back to Sage and him. “I swear. My only fear is…losing her. She’s just a kid. Please.”

  Erik ignored her plea. “Where’s Jason?”

 Confusion swept over Emma’s face. “Jason? I don’t…I don’t know where he is.”

  The beat of hesitation in her voice was enough. Emma heard it and so did Erik. Yet his annoyance at her persistent lying caused the bullet in front of her to push through, hovering a centimeter away from flesh.

  “I-“ Emma began.

  “He’s in the B Level,” said Sage before Emma could finish, tracking the bullet in front of the Director’s body with wide eyes. “….Basement floor.”

  “Sage!”

  Erik licked his teeth behind the mask. He stepped back and lowered his blade to Emma’s immense shock. Sage inhaled sharply and made a lunge for the Director, but just like that, he raised the blade again, this time pointing it to small of her back.

  “Ah, ah…No. Get in the elevator…and get out,” Erik ordered her. Sage gave Emma a quick look but the Director just gave her a short nod before she shuffled past in her haste to leave them, the doors closing in on the sight of them.

Erik took a step closer to Emma, leering down at her. “Take me to him.”


	19. Storm Part II

    _Security Breach. Level Zero._  

The computerized voice kept repeating on loop. It was soon the only sound in the lift as it moved beneath their feet, signaling their descent. Silence fell between them. 

 And then.. 

    _Director Frost, the control room is emitting a large amount of infrared sound waves. I recommend you do not approach it at the moment._

  Emma’s shoulders were hunched over as she gripped her shoulder wound. There was a white strip of cloth quickly turning red wrapped around it to stifle the flow of blood. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be mumbling to herself in a semi-delirious state.

   She didn’t seem at all concerned that the computer voice that sounded remarkably like Sage just  _warned_ her about something. It even sounded like it was a little bit worried about her.

   “Thank you, Ari,” Emma replied softly.

   “Ari?” Erik said back to her in confusion, glancing up at the ceiling of the lift, looking right at a small intercom speaker jammed in the corner where the voice had come from.

   “Advanced Recon Intelligence,” Emma explained. “She’s an AI.”

    “Is she?”

     “It’s a piece of StarkTech. An AI,” Emma told him.

    “ _Stark_ Tech?” Erik repeated, baffled. “My, you have friends in…high places.”

   Emma just shot a glare at him over her shoulder. “I don’t need your opinion.”

  “Making deals with Stark Industries…working with Jason Wyngarde. Emma…you have changed,” Erik commented.

  “You…,” Emma’s rage got the better of her. “You are not in  _any_ position to judge me. You kill for a living…and how calm you are right now, how…resolute you are? You don’t have a single regret for the lives you’ve taken.”

  Erik paused, but her words could have been spoken to the wall for the effect they had. He was staring down at her impassively. Nothing touched him.

  Except, it would seem, Charles did.

    “But you’re so hung up on this one,” Emma went on as the thought of the detective came to mind. Yes, she should have felt remorse, yes she should have felt bad for what she was doing to someone who had not personally done anything to her.

  Perhaps she was a bit hypocritical. Here she was judging Erik, when not too long ago, she was just like him. Maybe that contributed to her heartless point of view regarding the Detective.

  “Why?” Emma asked. And despite herself, she tried to brush his mind. The endless void greeted her just like it had before. The black walls that he had standing in place were standing in her way, but even then, she could feel the emotion behind his thoughts.

   He felt tension…anger…and even fear. He was scared of losing Charles. The possibility terrified him…made him feel like if it came to that, something inside of him would go with Charles as well. It was such an intense feeling…she had never felt anything like it from Erik before. She could not read his thoughts directly, but she knew that this feeling was consuming every part of him right now.

   “Stop doing that,” said Erik through his teeth.

      The doors opened just in time. It was a hallway not unlike the one leading to her office, except the lights were much dimmer…and it had an overall empty sort of look like no one had been here in a long time, even maintenance.

   Yet Emma had been here frequently. She had to set it all up, after all.

   Reflexively, Erik’s hand clamped down on Emma’s elbow, causing her to make a noise of protest. It didn’t help that he was holding onto her injured arm and not the other one. Though he probably did that on purpose.

   “This better not be a trap,” Erik warned her.

   “Depends on your definition of trap,” Emma pulled herself away from him and went to the last door, scanning a card from her belt and standing aside to let him through.

   It was strange for Erik to be in this room after leaving Charles a few hours before. This was like a hospital room too but it had been reconfigured.  There was large black monitors and computer towers everywhere. He didn’t know most of the machines here, hating hospitals more than anything…but most of the equipment looked like it came from one.

  Except none of this equipment was handed down or probably even used before. This was top of the line. A screen displayed all of the vitals and next to it was a live screen of brain activity.

  All this, Erik merely glanced at. He was more focused on the person that the machines were hooked into. Jason looked a lot like Charles, lying on his back with hookups to each machine except he had not been put in hospital clothes. He was still wearing his normal black attire.

   The sight of him sleeping like this, so calmly while Charles was deteriorating every moment filled Erik with blind fury. It took half a second for him to start seeing red. All thought of morality and how a mutant was nothing special if able to kill their own kind went out the window.

    The blade that he had clutched in his hand was released but did not make contract to the ground. It arched and hovered above his head.  A smaller blade that loosened from its sheath on his waist and joined the other about a foot away. The screens surrounding Jason began to flicker, data seeming to corrupt.  The image of Jason’s brain scan was closest to him and Erik looked at it, almost mesmerized.

  Normal…completely normal. But he knew what was happening inside. He knew Jason was about to merge his mind with Charles’s, strengthening him beyond belief. The thought caused him to step forward, the blades in his control moving with him like a snake preparing to sink its fangs into sleeping prey.

  “Wait, Erik!” Emma lunged forward and grabbed a hold of his arm, wincing slightly as she did . When he wouldn’t stop advancing, she stepped in line in front of him and blocked his path. The blades above him twisted and focused on her. She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to take her out of his path.

   **Violently.**

   “Listen to me for a moment. You can’t just kill him like this.”

  “Why, because you  _love_ him?” Erik mocked her. “Get out of my way and get better choices in men, Emma.”

   “ ERIK,” Emma shouted now, stepping closer. “You kill him, you break that connection and the detective will be stuck inside of his own mind for the rest of his life. You can’t defeat him here.”

   “ _Where_  do you expect me to defeat him, Emma?”

   “In here,” said Emma, tapping her temple. “That’s the only way. You have to remove his influence entirely or you’ll put your telepath into a state of purgatory for the remainder of life. You can’t imagine that kind of prison. Alive, but never truly. Jason’s too far in now.”

   Erik didn’t move, still keeping his weapon raised, but he looked at Emma with a kind of twisted anguish. “…What are you suggesting that I do?”

  He already knew the answer, but he had to hear it for himself. “You have to let me in.”

  Erik shook his head. “…No.”

   “There’s no other way, Erik,” Emma answered.

   “I’ll be damned if there isn’t. He can die,” Erik jerked his head to Jason. “He’s the one who caused this. He deserves to die.”

   “I am not…disputing that, Erik. You’ve come this far. You tear Jason out of Charles’s head, you’ll never see him wake up. Trust me…You have to trust me,” Emma tentatively reached forward to take his shoulders.

   “Please. Trust me. I can get you in and out safely,” Emma implored him.

   “You keep asking for trust,” said Erik, leaning down to her. “You tried to have me killed, and I know…for a fact…that if I let you in, you’ll try again.”

   “I won’t…This thing with Jason…,” Emma trailed off, sighing as frustration colored her tone. “It’s not…It’s just more trouble than its’ worth. I never wanted to hurt you, Erik. Regardless of your less-than-friendly feelings towards me, right now. It wasn’t my intention. Maybe it was his…but _I didn’t know that._ Please believe me.”

  “Emma…,” said Erik slowly. He couldn’t believe he was even considering this. His mind had always been the most protected aspect of himself. Even if his body was battered and bruised, the enemy could never capture his mind.

   “No tricks. That goes double for him. Tell me what I need to do.”

   Emma nodded. “I’ll be projecting you into Jason’s mind. Keep in mind that your presence is what we call a Strain. You won’t last…so you need to get in and get out.”

   “Get in, kill Jason…and get out. Got it,” said Erik.

    “You also have to get Charles to wake up,” said Emma, giving him a side eye. “…I’m not sure how you do that…but this is your one and only chance to try. If he means so much to you, maybe he’ll listen.”

   “Why would he not?” Erik raised an eyebrow.

   She sighed again. “…When another mind starts to dominate the other, the weaker mind starts to deteriorate rapidly. Whatever state you’ll find him in, he’ll be delirious…weak. He may not even recognize your presence…or he’ll think you’re an illusion.”

   She looked up when she found Erik just staring at her. “What?”

   “This is what you did to Skylar,” said Erik, not even bothering to hide the distaste in his voice.

   Emma clenched her jaw. “…I did what I was told to do by Shaw. Maybe that should tell you  **something**  about his regard for us as a whole.”

   “You don’t have to lie, Emma,” Erik told her with a humorless smile. “We all wouldn’t be who we are if we didn’t enjoy what we did.”

   Emma ignored the statement, and Erik knew it was because it rang true. No matter what she said to justify it. They were the worst of the worst, which made it so ironic that Erik was standing here trying to save a life rather than take it.

   “Let’s get started.” said Emma, getting into position, her hands hovering over Erik’s temples. He gave her a cold, mistrustful look before his eyes closed just as cold fingers made contact with his skin.

   The struggle against his mental barriers were harsh. Reflexively, Erik tried to fight her off. He knew how her invading presence had felt. Not just from her earlier attempts to breach his mind tonight, but from the past. His lack of trust for Emma in general made her attempt into his mind even more difficult.

   “Easy, Erik…,” Emma’s voice echoed deep inside of him and he grit his teeth together from the effort to just shut her out completely.

   “Easy…,” She said again, sounding much further away. "If you die in there...I can't promise you'll survive the experience out here without some kind of repercussion. Just take care of him before he takes care of you...I'll handle the rest."

  She was talking about Jason. About killing him in the midway point. 

   He had no choice. This was the only way, according to her. A deep breath escaped him and his eyes opened one final time on the image of Emma before he slowly allowed her presence inside his mind. 

* * *

   Charles had been left wandering. The world seemed so empty now. His office was empty…the streets were empty. He had given up trying to call out someone. No one was here. This was his purgatory, then? Just an endless, empty landscape for all eternity?

  Jason had said he wanted to take control…and he didn’t need the consent to do it. Where had Charles gone now? Was this truly the last vestige of light left? The only refuge?

  As soon as he walked out of the station, he found himself staring down the roads and trying to find his way back home.

  It started to rain, the storm thundering above him, but he didn’t care…this wasn’t real…this was just some kind of jaded representation of what was happening to him. Maybe the storm was Jason himself, and he was hoping to frighten him to death.

  What a stupid way to kill someone.

   Walking…walking…an endless road. Maybe the city would disappear entirely. He kept waiting for that to happen. 

  In the distance ahead of him, he heard a puddle splash and his eyes shot up.

  There stood Erik, wearing that familiar white t-shirt he had seen him sleep in and jeans. He was standing underneath a lamp post, a black umbrella in hand to shield from the rain.

  “Erik!” Charles cried out, breaking into a run towards him. He didn’t care if this wasn’t real. Yes, a great part of him knew all of this wasn’t real, that there was no way for Erik to actually be here.

   The fact that his mind had managed to create an image of Erik in his final moments was something he was more than grateful for.

  Before Erik could fully turn, Charles wrapped his arms around him from behind, his hold tight around the other man’s waist. He could feel the warmth, the solidness of him. He felt so real…

  “Charles…,” Erik turned in their embrace, his expression as he looked down at Charles somewhat amused, his lips forming a small smile.

   “I thought I’d never see you again,” said Charles, refusing to let him go as he buried his head in the other man’s chest. “I’m so _sorry_ , Erik…I’m so sorry…I dragged you to Fisk’s party…I didn’t think…I never imagined it would end up like that…I put you in danger…”

   “Charles…it’s all right…It’s okay. Everything’s fine now, okay? I’m here,” said Erik. He pulled back a few inches to release Charles and hold up his hands. “See? No harm done.”

   Charles nodded slowly before cupping Erik’s face with both hands, bringing the other down to him gently so he could press their lips together. A sigh escaped him as the contact, heated breath passing over the other man’s mouth.

   “I missed you…,” Charles murmured, pressing his cheek against Erik’s chest. “Feels like… _forever_ since I last saw you.”

   “I know…I’m here now…,” Erik whispered, raising his hand to press against Charles’s other cheek, his chin resting over his head. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you, all right?”

   Charles sighed contentedly. “Okay.”

   “Come on…Let’s get home,” Erik wrapped an arm around Charles’s shoulder, adjusting the umbrella over to them as he started taking him down the path to their building. Once they were inside, the storm seemed to get even stronger, and Charles huddled closer to his companion, squeezing him around the waist.

   “It’s all right,” Erik kept saying as they went to the stairs. Even here, Erik was frightened of elevators. It made Charles smile slightly. Not for his claustrophobia but that this illusionary Erik was accurately portrayed.

   He led Charles to his loft, opening the door and only letting Charles go when they reached the kitchen island and he could settle him on a stool on the other side of the counter.

   “Coffee?” Erik offered.

   “I’d love some,” Charles replied. He slid off the stool and approached Erik’s window. The sky looked black with storm clouds now, lightning flashing across in an ominous way. It only seemed to intensify the longer Charles watched. He could hear the whistle of the wind as it relentlessly beat against the glass.

   “It’s…strange…I  _know_ this isn’t real. I know you’re just apart of my imagination,” Charles said, turning his head in Erik’s direction. “But…I’m okay with that…as long as I’m with you.”

   “What makes you think I’m part of your imagination?” Erik chuckled, walking over to Charles with a steaming mug. “You know you could be having a dream.”

   “Seems more like a nightmare…,” Charles replied, taking the mug gratefully and taking a small sip. The warm liquid felt real as it slid down his throat, soothing him just a little.

   “Except the part with you in it,” said Charles when he could speak, placing the mug on the window sill as the other man approached.

  Erik’s arms wrapped around him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder where he kissed his neck then lightly bit down on his earlobe.

   Charles heard the crackling boom of thunder but even that didn’t make him flinch when Erik was close like this, providing a sense of peace. An illusion that could make him feel so safe…Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?  He was the one that was supposed to be protecting Erik.

   The thunder may not have taken Charles’s attention, but it took Erik’s. His hold on Charles didn’t loosen, yet his eyes seemed to flash in time with the lightning.

   “I’m so tired, Erik…,” Charles mumbled, his eyes closing. He felt fatigue that came with sickness, taking over his entire body. Aches and pains that would make anyone just want to collapse in bed and not stir for an undisclosed amount of time. It was a dangerous combination to the headache he was having, pounding in his temples.

   “I know,” Erik answered. Charles leaned heavily on him until all of his weight fell and Erik’s arms were the only thing supporting him. He adjusted himself, turning Charles to the side so he could pick the detective up under the knees and back.

   One glance at the door told him of the looming black shadow that waited. It wasn’t long now. Black fumes started to rise from the outline of the door and cracks began to splinter the loft walls starting at the corners.

  This, Erik was able to ignore for the most part as he gently set Charles down on his bed, climbing over the covers so he was next to him. Charles kept his eyes closed but he moved to cuddle next to Erik, his legs curling and head leaning on Erik’s outstretched arm.

   Another roll of thunder. It felt closer than before.

   “…I’m tired,” Charles was whispering. “….I’m so…”

   Erik slowly traced his cheek with his fingertips again, stopping at the jawline before he traced that as well. Charles stirred slightly, inching himself closer to Erik.

   “Charles…Tell me…what do you hear?”

   Charles let out a sigh. “ Thunder…rain….you.”

   “Past that…what else do you hear?”

   “Nothing…”

   “Focus…,” Erik urged him gently. “ Listen. The beeping…it’s the monitor on your heart, Charles. It’s counting every beat. And do you hear the shift in the air? The breath as it leaves your lungs? That’s you too…And the woman…do you hear her?”

  Charles stirred again, his eyebrows furrowed as though in concentration.

   “…She’s the nurse. Nurse Temple…She’s coming in and out of your room. She’s been watching over you…she cares about you…like me…like Alex,” Erik went on. His hand trailed downward from his arm, stopping short of Charles’s lower thigh. The detective shuddered beside him.

   “And the pain…you feel that too, don’t you…? It’s broken. Your leg…You were injured.”

   Charles let out a ragged breath. No doubt the full force of the broken leg returned to him. His eyes opened, small blue peeking out behind the closed lids.

   “Erik…,” Charles breathed, touching his shoulder, his cheek and neck. “You’re…real…aren’t you?”

   “Yes,” Erik’s smile was faint. There was something in his eyes…a **calm** acceptance…yet he could see the sorrow there.

   “You came for me?”

    “Always.”

   Charles’s voice was full of despair. “Why? This is a prison, Erik. Why did you do this?”

   “I couldn’t…,” Erik swallowed a lump in his throat, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “….I couldn’t leave you here alone.”

   “But we’ll be stuck here…forever…,”

   “No… _You_ won’t,”

  And just like that, Charles’s hand felt light, going through Erik entirely as if he…wasn’t there…wasn’t physical any longer.

   “What…what’s happening?”

   “You’re waking up.”

   True enough, the room flashed around him to a different one entirely. He saw the dull pattern of a hospital ceiling above him, heard the beeping of the monitor and the footsteps of the Nurse as she came to his side. Her badge. “C. Temple.”

  She became clearer...and Erik...the image of him became more and more blurry, no matter how hard Charles tried to hold onto it. 

   In the next blink, he forced himself back in the bedroom with Erik, except his hand was starting to fade. He could see the texture of Erik’s shirt beneath it.

   “No… _No_ …Erik…I don’t want…I don’t want to leave you here. I don’t want….,” Charles’s face crumpled. “…I don’t want to leave you. Please...come with me. You have the strength...Please, Erik.”

   “It’s all right,” Erik whispered softly. He pressed his lips to Charles’s forehead, feeling the fading softness of his skin. His eyes closed as if memorizing the feel of Charles so close…next to him like this.

   “No…,” Charles’s final word was like the wind. The detective disappeared entirely with a final look at Erik as the darkness crept inside.


	20. The Strain

   Erik could feel the warmth left behind by Charles after he disappeared. Perhaps it was part of his imagination. This was his mind now. Yet even that fact didn't stop the black cracks from splintering the vision of his home. He climbed out of the bed and walked back in front of the window where Charles had been standing....where he himself had been standing in the real world not too long ago, feeling the full weight of the situation. 

  This was just another midway point, but he knew that here, he had no chance against Jason. He was not a telepath, and the only thing protecting him was the mental barriers which Emma had to fracture to project him here. 

  Even without a chance, he still stood ready to face him, the mutant that called himself Mastermind now...and perhaps rightfully so. He had nearly succeeded...and he would have if not for Erik's interference.

  The rage was almost tangible...and Erik watched as black thorns and veins started to grow inside of the loft. No doubt the entire building -- no -- the entire city was now marred by Jason's tainted mind.

   The door opened and Jason stepped in. The first thing Erik saw was his shoes, then he took in the rest of his body. The darkness had been following him here....and he had covered the entirety of the city just like Erik thought. Even as he stepped forward, the black thorns followed him.

  “Erik,” Jason’s tone was pleasant, but something inside of him was burning. Everything behind him shifted to black, depleting the color from the fragile thread Erik stood upon.

   “Jason,” Erik answered impassively.

   “I take it you’re the reason Charles is gone,” said Jason, coming to a stop halfway through Erik’s loft where he started walking a line in front of him. Erik was reminded of a documentary regarding carnivorous animals in captivity. He remembered how the panthers, the lions, and even the boars used to pace inside of their cages, eyes fixed on the human prey in front of him. They could not open the door themselves, but the minute the human slipped up or got too close, they’d be missing a limb.

  There was no cage around Jason right now, but the threat remained the same.

   Erik didn’t reply about Charles because Jason already knew.

  Jason sighed, seeming to chuckle to himself. His hands went over his face, fingers rubbing over his eyes. It was fascinating to watch because Erik could sense how angry he was .It was all in the storm brewing all around, the thunder as it clapped and the constant flash of lightning.

   “…A Strain. You’re a Strain,” Jason stated when he could look up at the other mutant. “I’m guessing the  _bitch_ put you up to that.”

   Erik’s eyes tightened at the disrespectful way he acknowledged Emma. But there was a sliver of sympathy he still had. Something he had been wanting for a long time was just snatched away from him.

  The difference between what Charles was and what Erik was as a Strain was simple. A telepath called it that because it was a very thin thread of his mind connecting to a telepath’s larger network. He could not cause the damage that Jason could, but he was still a problem that Jason needed to deal with. For a Strain kept him in this place between minds.

  And there was only one way to deal with a Strain.

   “You know…,” Jason began again, running his hand over his head and gripping the back of his neck as he looked at Erik. “…You wouldn’t be in this position at all…if you still had your memory.”

  There he was again, bringing up an impaired memory. Erik seethed in silence for a moment as he mulled that over. Was it possible he wasn’t lying? What was the side effects of mentally blocking out psychic invasion?

   “What position?” Erik countered exasperatedly.

   “ _This_ one…If you still had your memory, Erik…You’d  _want_ to have this done. Hell, you’d have probably fetched this telepath out of the water for me to do it,” said Jason.

 He stepped forward, his face inches away from the assassin. “I only ever wanted to stop one person, Erik. Anyone who stands in the way of that is an enemy to me. If that includes you…then so be it.”

  Erik licked his teeth. “And who’s that?”

  “Sebastian…Shaw,” said Jason, venom lacing his tone. “We do what we have to survive, Erik. You’re a testament to that. If you knew…half of the things that man has done…you’d thank me for this. Someone like Charles…I’ve been waiting for him for a long time. He can give us the power we need to obliterate Shaw’s mind completely. No matter what…tricks he has up his sleeve.”

  Erik knew that Shaw had taken measures to stop any telepath from screwing with his head. He didn’t know how exactly or what technology he was using, but when team members like Emma and Jason appeared, he had no choice but to find a way to block their access.

   “You know…I’m not going to argue that Shaw has whatever…he has coming,” said Erik, eying Jason’s murderous expression. “But not like this…not at the cost of another life.”

  Jason closed the distance between them, cupping Erik’s chin. His touch was cold, his look too sympathetic.

   “I know you’re doing what you think is right, Erik. You always have. I’m doing the same thing. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to do this to you, but you’ve left me no choice,” Jason’s teeth clenched at that realization. He pressed himself against Erik, wrapping an arm around him.

  “Jason…,” Erik said in a low voice. He wasn’t sure if it was Jason’s influence, the fact that his mind was so prevalent in this dreamscape, but he could feel the embers of Jason’s regret reflect inside of him.

   “For my part in all of it, Erik…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” Jason’s words echoed in his ear. It was not so unlike the apology Erik received in the Pulse club right before he got stabbed. He thought Jason was apologizing for the entire ordeal, yet that almost didn’t match just how much lament was in the mutant’s tone this time.

  Erik heard the sound of the blade this time…and he caught it, hand wrapping tight around Jason’s as the tip of the blade hovered inches away from Erik’s body. He hadn’t been aiming for the old wound, that one had been nonlethal. It was meant to be a warning for Shaw, inflicting that injury. Now he had aimed to kill.

  But so did Erik.

   “Stab me once…Shame on you…Try to stab me twice…,” Erik trailed off with a quirk of his eyebrow.

   The dagger was pried away easily and in a one swift stroke, Erik slashed through his chest cavity.  Jason gasped, his eyes flying downward where he expected to find blood. There was no blood, the cut seemed to be a fissure line through Jason’s form, the background becoming more and more clear as he started to fade.

   Erik stepped back, his eyes darting upward. “Emma…finish him off.”

  Jason’s eyes went wide before Emma appeared right next to Erik, her hand extended towards him, palm up. Her fingers began to close and the swirling darkness that Jason brought him was absorbed in the small of her hand. The last thing to be obliterated in a shower of glass was Jason himself.

  The look of betrayal on his face just seconds before spoke volumes. He said Emma’s name, but he may as well have voiced it, given his voice produced no sound.

  And then he was gone.

   __

   Returning back to the physical world, Erik was pushed away from Emma, lying flat on his back, arms spread out.

   “You know, this? This is why I’m retiring,” said Erik. He glanced over at Emma from the side, seeing the other telepath crumpled on her knees where she had left contact with Erik.

  “Your telepath should be awake by now,” Emma told him. Her eyes closed and she kept a hand clamped down on her injured side. “…You should go to him.”

   Erik raised his head slowly before sitting up, eying the injury. “…Sorry for stabbing you.”

  “Fuck off, Erik,” Emma muttered.

   Erik chuckled to himself before using the ground to support his stand where he could get a good look at the bed where Jason was. Every monitor indicated a flatline. The monitor displaying brain activity seemed to show an empty shell.

  Even though he knew it was necessary…that Jason had to be stopped for the good of the world, there was something inside him that felt broken at the sight of him. He was a friend. And if things had been different…maybe they would have stood on the same side against Shaw.

  Emma was watching him for the longest time. He could feel her gaze on the back of his neck even as he bent down to gently press his palm to Jason’s cheek.

   “I’ll take care of the body,” Emma stated after a moment. “They won’t even notice he’s missing.”

  Erik nodded to himself before retracting his hand, ignoring the sinking feeling he felt. He couldn’t look at Jason like this any longer, choosing to look at Emma instead.

   “What about you?” He asked. “What are you going to do?”

   “Guess that depends on you,” Emma replied, flicking her head slightly to move a wayward lock of hair back. “…I’m not going to turn myself into Shaw. If that’s what you’re asking.”

   “I’m not,” said Erik.

   “Then I guess I’m on the road to retirement as well,” Emma answered, nodding. “Not like I have much of a choice. The alternative has you hunted, probably killed and me following suit.”

   “So you’re going on the run? Not like that changes your alternative if Shaw finds out you’re still alive,” said Erik.

   “Well I mean…Are you….letting me go?” Emma shifted her feet somewhat awkwardly at his suggestion.

   Erik was silent for a long moment, considering her. It was true, it was a dangerous prospect. Emma was a powerful telepath and a contract no less. His orders were to kill her on sight, and looking at the wound she still carried, he nearly succeeded.  But she had helped him…helped save Charles: something he never expected her capable of doing.

   “I want you to leave this city,” Erik finally said.

   “…I can do that…,” Emma weighed her words carefully.

   “So yes…I’m letting you go,” Erik went on, leaning down at her so that his eyes blazed for a moment. “But if you do  _anything_ like this again, threaten my telepath with your schemes….”

   Erik’s hand went over her heart, the lightest brush of fingertips. “I won’t aim for the shoulder next time.”

  He didn’t smile as Emma expected. Ever strange was the effect of Charles Xavier. The prospect of killing Emma after what she had done should have brought him some sort of satisfaction…and yet here he was, perfectly willing to walk away.

   “I understand…,” Emma responded slowly.

   His eyebrows raised again and he turned and left her there in the solitude of the room. Emma waited, listening for the sound of the elevator as it went up. Temptation…temptation….here was someone who posed a massive threat to her operations as a whole, and she had just let him go. Especially with his back turned where she had the momentary advantage.

 A moment or two passed of Emma just tapping her foot, making sure that Erik was gone. She no longer felt the echo of his mind…and the fissures in his mental barriers were already repairing themselves. Still. He was gone and so then she said:

   “You can come out.”

   The bed, the machines hooking up to Jason all began to fade much like the dream world. Jason…his ability was all mental. He made you see what he wanted you to see. If he wanted what you saw to be tangible, to be touched, then it would be so.

   And as he stepped through from the door off to the side, Emma knew that this was real. The man looked completely unharmed…save for a fine sheet of sweat across his face from concentrating and maintaining the mental projection he had for Erik.

   “That was…unexpected,” Jason said after a moment, aligning his fingertips together.

   “In what way?” Emma asked.

   Jason seemed thoughtful for a moment. “ I didn’t expect sentiment from Erik. Not to that degree.”

   “Sentiment…you mean for the detective?” Emma nodded towards him. “…or for you?”

   Jason tapped his fingers together, expression becoming conflicted. “Both.”

   “What do you think we should do? If he finds out that you’re still alive….and that I haven’t left. When we try to take the detective again, he’ll—”

   “We’re not…going to target Charles again,” Jason interrupted smoothly. Eying Emma’s incredulous expression, Jason smiled. “…He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

  “Erik isn’t a problem if we’re prepared for him,” Emma pointed out. “This is a missed opportunity if we let it slip, Jason.”

  Her point was valid but Jason didn’t look taken by it. “….Do you know what I felt when I delved deep into the detective’s mind, Emma?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

   “Affection,” Jason said almost mockingly. “… **Love** …for lack of a better word. Fondness…familiarity. Not a hint of…resentment. The detective’s ignorance of Erik’s true nature is very apparent. He doesn’t know the man he cares for is a cold blooded killer.”

  “I know,” said Emma, moving to approach the other man, her hands resting lightly on his chest as she gazed up at him. “But what does that mean for us? For what we’re doing here?”

   “It means…,” Jason started slowly. “That we have our work cut out for us. The truth…can be a poison if you use it the right way. I believe that Charles…once he finds out the truth, will reach out to us again. And when he does…he’ll want what we're offering.”

   “…But how?” Emma asked. “How can you be sure?”

   Jason cupped her face with both hands, smiling down at her. “The more time he spends trying to break Erik’s mind when he dons the assassin persona, the stronger he becomes. We’ll use that to our advantage. For now…let’s do what he thinks  _you’re_  doing…and leave the city.”

   “Is this wise?

   “Erik wins this round…but trust me, when we next see him….he’ll have lost so much, he’ll be on his  _knees_ begging for mercy,” said Jason with conviction. He leaned down to brush his lips against her cheekbone. “But let’s sow in the seed, hmm? Think of it as…a going away present…or a gift for well wishes.”

* * *

    It was mid morning when Charles woke up. The light above him was blinding, but he could see the fuzzy parts start to straighten as he averted his gaze in front of him. A woman with dark hair in light blue nurse scrubs was standing over him.

   “Mister Xavier, how are you feeling?” She asked, taking a look at his screens.

   “Like I have a headache I’m never going to recover from…,” Charles murmured groggily, struggling to sit up, but her hand came down on his shoulder. The detective struggled to focus on her for a moment. The letters in bold on her badge stood out when he glanced at it. C.Temple. There was something vaguely  _familiar_ about that name.

  “Try to take it easy,” She told him.

   Sure enough, Charles felt a sharp pain radiating from his knee up to his upper thigh. He glanced down to find his entire right leg was wrapped up in thick bandages, the prelude to a cast that that Charles didn’t even want to think about right now.

   "You came to a few days ago. Since then, we've been running scans for any other abnormalities...but it looks like you're finally fully coherent."Claire shined a blinding light in his eyes, watching his pupils dilate.  "Seemed like you were having a hell of a nightmare."

   Charles didn't remember any of that. The last thing Charles remembered after passing out at he Venetian Tower was not a memory of any real physicality. He remembered just an **intense** feeling of loneliness. Even trying to recall past or after that caused his entire body to shudder, the monitor beeping and mirroring his panic.

   It felt like weight was pressing in on his skull on either side, crushing his mind. He was trying to go back there, subconsciously, but he knew he couldn't...and not to mention, _shouldn't_. The feeling of desolation there was too great. His own escape was remarkable.

   As Charles closed his eyes, he felt the briefest flash of a black storm over the city, the skies becoming darker and darker...the wind started to pick up in a chill. It was the worst storm he had ever seen, and somehow he just knew...knew that as he watched it, that this storm had the **power** to wipe out everything in its path.

   "Easy...Easy...," Claire soothed him, palm light on his forehead and neck as his temperature climbed and she felt the wetness of sweat begin to form on heated skin. "Dial it back. Come back to my voice. You can hear me, right?"

   Claire sounded so distant, but Charles drew in a deep breath, another...then three. The monitor's beeping started to stabilize. Slowly, the room came back to him, the sounds of the real world seeped back through his eardrums and he was rooted back in place.

   "I can hear you," said Charles, easing himself. 

   Her thoughts of concern were suddenly loud in his ears.

    _That isn't a normal reaction. I told Doctor Ludlow that we should keep him another night when he wakes up. So what if we're packed? This isn't a hotel. Patients shouldn't have to check out just because we have more coming in._

   Thoughts of the hospital flooded in, and Charles knew where this was. This was Hells Kitchen, the highest ranked part of New York City in murder.

   Of course the hospital was always full. The fact that a nurse was overseeing his care and not a doctor was extremely telling.

   He eyed the desk full of roses and carnations next to him. None of them had a card, but as Claire followed his gaze, a memory flickered of the one who brought them.

   "Where's...Erik?"    

   “I’ve already called your partner. Detective Summers? He’s on his way. I’m sure he’s relayed the information to your…to…Erik.”

   “Has he been here?” Charles asked. "...Lately?"

   Claire smiled. “Yes. He was here last night. Almost every night, actually. But he didn’t want to wake you…I think that’s just his chair now.”

  She nodded off towards a chair sitting in the opposite corner. Charles did another scan of her mind and found memories of Erik. His arms were crossed as he leaned back in an uncomfortable position, feet propped up on a neighboring chair, eyebrows furrowed as though he was having a bad dream.

   Charles felt a pang of remorse and longing for him. His solace was that at least it didn't look like Erik had been injured in the explosion. 

   “I’m sorry I missed him,” said Charles.

   “I’m sure he’ll be back,” said Claire consolingly.

   “If he does…and I’m asleep, can you please tell him I don’t mind being woken up?”

  Claire’s lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Of course.”

   “Is he awake?” A voice said from the door. Charles’s eyes widened in on his partner as the younger man walked inside.

   “Alex…,” Charles said with relief, trying to sit up as much as he possibly could. Claire gave him a quick glance before she pressed a button on his bed side that started to raise him up automatically. He shot her a grateful look, mouthing his thanks.

   “Shit, you scared the hell out of me,” Alex sighed, taking a hold of Charles’s arm and giving him a light squeeze.

   “I’ll be right outside,” said Claire with a meaningful look at Charles before she slipped out.

  “Sorry about that,” Charles went on, eying Alex’s haphazard state. It looked like it was in and out of the shower this morning. He hadn’t bothered to comb it. Or maybe he had and it had already come to a few hair-pulling situations.

  “Don’t do that again,” Alex warned him.

  “I’ll try not to,”

   Whether Alex wanted to or not, he was already projecting some images of the past few days. He saw his partner’s encounter with the assassin after the bomb went off, the promise to find and save Charles….he saw the encounter with Emma at the crime site, the sight of the dead man inside of the garbage wearing clothing eerily similar to that of the assassin…

  Then he saw his partner visit the home of Captain Stryker, speak to him. The conversation was rather one-sided with Stryker seeming somewhat delirious and shaken. Somebody had broken into his house, but he wasn’t at liberty to say who. He felt a ghost of Alex’s frustration in dealing with the other man, but the mingled sympathy for him as well. There was no getting a straight answer out of Stryker in this state.

   Though the last memory he managed to find was of a phone conversation that Alex had just a few minutes before entering the hospital.

   Alex seemed to sense Charles’s reading, because he communicated a mental thought to him to explain.

    _Director Frost left._

  “Left?” Charles said out loud.

     _Yeah…seemed to happen over night. Just…took everything and left. We found that body in a dumpster. ID’d him as Mitchell Tanner. A war veteran who was announced MIA some months ago. Seems like he was one of them. I found him and then Director Frost stopped by…Disappeared right after. Not sure why._

 “Maybe she was shellshocked,” said Charles, remembering how Mitchell’s body looked after seeing him in Alex’s mind. His upper chest had a huge hole in it like something was torn out. 

   _Shellshock? You’d think the Deputy Director would have harder skin than that._

  “You’d think…She say anything at all?”

    _Just a phone call from that weird assistant that looks exactly like her…telling me that the investigation was being dropped._  

“Dropped? They think the guy…Mitchell…was behind everything?” 

    _Regardless of what they really believe or not…that’s who they’re pinning everything on._

 “But that’s not true,” said Charles. “There’s someone else out there. We know. We saw him. He…”

   “Saved you,” Alex finished for him out loud. “…He said Fisk wasn’t his contract but that he was going to rescue you.”

   “Why? I don’t understand that,” Charles wondered.

   “I don’t either. He said he didn’t want Tanner taking his mark from him,” said Alex with a meaningful look at Charles. “Looks like that confirms that you’re in danger if it wasn’t uh…evident before.”

   “So what, he wants to kill me himself?” Charles tried to make sense of it. If that was the case, why not kill him as soon as he found him?

   “I don’t know,” said Alex again. “I don’t know what’s going on inside that guy’s head. Speaking of which…Still having trouble reading him?”

   Charles nodded. “…He’s obviously undergone some kind of mental training.”

   “Sucks to be flying blind,” Alex commented.

   “You’re telling me.”

   “Well…I actually have to go…but I want you to take a few days off. And I’m not giving you an order or anything, so don’t think I got like..promoted while you were out. Just my suggestion. Don’t be in a rush to get back to this. Trust me…I can handle it for a few days…or even a few weeks until you’re walking properly again,” Alex told him. “Really man…I want you to take some time to rest.”

   “I’ll think about it.”

   “You better,” Alex’s voice took on a bit of a mock threatening note before he relaxed an inch. “I’ll also see if I can get you a new phone.”

   “You don’t need to do that.”

   “Yes…I do…I’m worried about you, and this isn’t the 90s. I’m not calling a hospital and waiting to get transferred to the wrong room to talk to you,” said Alex, turning to the door. “Take care…and  _remember_  what I said. No rushing back.”

   “See you _later_ , Alex,” said Charles pointedly.

  Alex gave him a chiding look before heading out the door.

* * *

    Charles leaned back on his pillows, staring out the window next to him.  He closed his eyes and started to drift off, but only a few minutes seemed to pass and there was a quiet knock on the door before Claire walked in.

   “How are you feeling?” She asked.

   “Leg starts hurting when I move it,” said Charles, watching as several other nurses came in with that thick…thick white cast that he was dreading.

  “No worries. We’re going to fit you with this and it’ll feel a lot better,” Claire told him. Charles gave her a stony look before struggling to sit up as they began to work.

  He tried not to wince as they removed the current bindings. His leg looked fine to him. So what if it was a little purple around the knee? Okay…very purple around the knee. Looked like a giant bruise. He wanted to poke it, but before he could even try, Claire lightly slapped his hand.

   He tried to distract himself. “Can I go home after this?”

   “Well, I don’t want you driving yourself, but yeah I think we can manage that. Do you have someone you can call?”

   “My…partner should be able to swing by,” Charles muttered under his breath.

   “That won’t be necessary,” A low voice said by the door. Charles looked over Claire’s shoulder, meeting Erik’s gaze.

  “Erik,” Charles called out, relief in his tone.

   The man stood in the doorway for a moment, holding a get well card with a long stemmed white rose on top of it. He glanced down at it before moving to approach. Erik side stepped the nurses as they worked to lean down and press his lips to Charles’s cheek.

  “You know, I think you got me enough flowers to start my own little garden patch in the patio,” Charles teased, chasing his lips as Erik pulled away.

   “You should be grateful for my self-control. I was about to clean out the entire gift shop,” Erik answered with a raise of his eyebrow. "and besides, who says there _isn't_ more then all this?"

   Charles was about to answer him, but then he winced at the tightness of the new cast, the sudden discomfort distracting him as he looked down at it, hating the necessity of it.

   “All right…let’s try standing,” said Claire, backing up. A surly looking doctor with blonde hair appeared in the doorway. Kind of funny this was the first time that Charles even saw a doctor and he looked so done. He didn’t even move to approach Charles or even have his presence acknowledged.

  Erik followed Charles’s gaze too as he came to Charles’s side with Claire on the other.  Charles cast her and the other two nurses with her a disdainful look, a stubborn look touching his features.

   “Maybe I should do it,” said Erik in a low voice. “I got him.”

   “We want to make sure it’s secure,” piped up one of the younger nurses.

   “I got it,” Erik said with a little more force. “No need for an audience.”

   Claire looked between them. “I’ll be outside.”

  As they left them, Charles reached forward and took a hold of Erik’s shirt. The other man obviously still had a preference for darker colors, the dark grey open button shirt looking good on him. He sniffed and caught a wave of his cologne.

   “Erik…,” Charles tugged the fabric lightly to make the other lean down. Erik followed his lead, an amused smile in place as he pressed their lips together.

  Though Erik was too gentle, too chaste. Charles’s wondering hand reached up and took a handful of Erik’s hair, pulling him closer, head tilting to deepen the access.

  “Miss me that much?” Erik pulled away an inch, their noses brushing.

   “You have no idea,” Charles murmured back, pulling Erik closer for another kiss. He heard harsh beeping from his heart monitor that he was all too willing to ignore. But Erik didn’t, his eyes opened on the monitor and he pulled back again, Charles biting down on Erik’s lower lip.

   “Maybe take it easy for now,” Erik suggested.

   “It feels like it’s been too long,” Charles complained.

   “I know...but I didn’t kick them out for nothing, you know.”

  Charles sighed while Erik offered up his arm. Charles took a handful of his sleeve and slowly started to rise. Erik grabbed underneath his arm with both hands to help him upright.

   He lingered there for a moment. Then hesitantly, Charles took a step. The extra padding of the cast around his foot made him stumble, but he never even saw a glimpse of the floor before Erik was holding him around the waist, grip tight to keep him steady.

   Charles blew out a breath of frustration, his teeth grinding together.

    “This is so humiliating,” Charles growled.

    “How?” Erik questioned.

    “Are you kidding?” Charles gripped his shoulders to steady himself. “How am I supposed to work like this? I have a case…I have a job…I can’t be stationed at a desk for…whatever amount of weeks. Like I know how long. The doctor isn’t even talking to me.”

   “So the hero took a hiatus,” Erik raised one shoulder. “Big deal. Happens from time to time.”

  Charles scoffed. “Not to me.”

   “You’re not invincible, Charles.”

   “I should be,” Charles said with more fervor. “This shouldn’t have happened at all…I shouldn’t have dragged you along…put you in danger.”

   Charles looked at his feet between them, further annoyed at the sight of the encased leg.

   “I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you,” Charles spoke in a low voice.

  “Hey…,” Erik cupped his chin and forced him to look up and meet his gaze. “Nothing happened to me. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Worry about yourself…about getting better.”

  “People died….” Charles trailed off.

   “That happens from time to time too,” said Erik bracingly. “…It wasn’t your fault.”

   Charles broke away from his hold and looked back down. “Wasn’t it? I had a gut feeling something was going to happen.”

   “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

   Charles shook his head. He felt his eyes sting. He couldn’t blame the medication for the feeling of sorrow he felt. He wasn’t allowing himself to shift the blame on Emma, on anyone else to console himself. No, this was his fault because he could have done so much better. He could have warned Fisk better, he could have evacuated everyone based on his gut feeling…and he could have avoided inviting Erik altogether, kept the other man out of danger.

   Erik leaned down in their embrace, catching the look on Charles’s face. He took his face, gently swiping away the tears from his cheeks.

   “Don’t cry, angel,” Erik crushed him to his chest. “Don’t cry…don’t cry. It’s all right. “

   Charles let out a sharp exhale, heated breath going into Erik’s shirt. “….I feel so weak.”

  “You’re not weak,” Erik’s lips brushed his forehead. “Not to me.”

   “Erik…”

   “You know…,” Erik pulled back again to look at him. “…You know…you don’t  _always_  have to be the one protecting others. I know it’s in your job description…and that you feel you have to…but sometimes, you should let someone else protect you.”

   Charles’s head shot up and he gave the other man a sharp look. “No. No way. I’m not endangering you again. I will not put you in that position. Not for me. In fact, I think it’d better if we…broke this off right now. Before either of us get too attached. Before someone comes after you and---”

   Erik’s mouth covered his again, discarding all notions of keeping it gentle. A hot breath exchanged between them, the only chance Erik was giving him to breathe before he parted Charles’s lips with his tongue to deepen it. Erik had always kept a handle on his control with Charles, injury or not. This was different. There was something desperate in his movements as he clutched Charles to him so tight, keeping their bodies flush.

   The only thing that stopped Erik was the sudden and loud beeping from the heart monitor where wires were pulled and strained with Charles’s position, but Erik didn’t break off the kiss immediately this time. It was Charles who had to break it, panting as he caught his breath.

  They were so close like this, Charles just looking in his eyes. His gaze flickered down to Erik’s swollen lower lip which he couldn’t help nipping at. Erik gave him an amused smile, the smallest scrape of teeth against his mouth.

   “Forgot I have to be gentle with you now,” said Erik in a low, gravelly tone.

   “You really shouldn’t do that when I’m trying to make a point,” Charles whispered.

   “I hear your point. I do, Charles. I swear,” Erik told him. “Unfortunately, you don’t get to decide what’s best for me. I make that decision. I choose you.”

   “If something were to happen to you…”

   “Nothing is going to happen,” Erik answered, eyes burning. “I promise.”

   “Erik…”

   “Shh..,” Erik shushed him, lightly brushing his lips with a sweet kiss. “…Let me take you home…there’s something I want to ask you. But not here…not…here. I  **hate**  this place.”

  It was Charles’s turn to be slightly amused by the other man’s disdainful expression.

   “Fine,” Charles finally said.

  Claire walked back into the room while Erik helped Charles into a sitting position back on the bed. He had a clipboard full of papers that she handed over to him to view.

   “The prescription is right on top. Every 6 hours as needed for pain…and make sure he’s eaten something. Can’t be taken on an empty stomach,” Claire told him. “It’ll make him drowsy too, so no operating any heavy machinery. That means driving, just FYI.”

   She shot Charles a stern look who held up his hands.

    “I wasn’t planning on sneaking out, Nurse. At least not tonight,” said Charles with a grin, though Claire wasn’t smiling.

  Erik nodded, pushing the prescription below the stack where he started signing and putting his signature on each line that was hi-lighted for him.

  Claire disappeared again but reappeared a few seconds later rolling in a wheelchair.

  Charles immediately made a noise of protest. “Do I really need that? I can walk. I think. Just get me some crutches.”

   “I’ll pick up the crutches tomorrow,” said Erik over the top of the clipboard as he flipped pages. “I got him tonight.”

   “I don’t want a wheelchair exit,” Charles pursed his lips stubbornly.

   “Sorry…but think of it as a passing of care. After you leave the wheelchair, you’ll be all Erik’s,” said Claire with a wink at the man, who just smiled, saying nothing as he finished initialing and signing the papers before setting it all down on the bed next to Charles.

   Charles sighed, resigned as Claire helped him into the wheelchair, his leg hanging outward in an annoying way. She placed a bag on his lap that was full of his possessions, old torn clothes and a broken cellphone. He cast a distasteful look at the room he was saying goodbye to before he allowed Claire to wheel him out.

   Erik went ahead of them to get his car, the nurse and detective left waiting for him.

   “He’s a good guy,” said Claire. “You’re lucky to have him.”

   “He is,” Charles agreed. “If…super stubborn.”

   “Something you share,” Claire commented while Charles scowled. “It’s still a good thing, having someone like that care for you.”

   “Yeah…,” Charles trailed off.

   Erik’s black car soon appeared and he climbed out of the driver side. Charles was momentarily thrown by Erik in sunglasses. He still looked like a movie star. If he wasn’t injured, he’d bound for the other man and throw his arms around him. Didn’t matter where they were…or that people were watching. This place could use a little cheer.

   Instead he was being rolled closer as Erik, Claire gently helped him up to stand and Erik took quickly took over, arms around him once more.

   “I kind of just pictured doing this myself,” Charles admitted in a low voice just for him.

   “Really.”

   Charles nodded. “Mmhm…and you did a little spin in my head like in those movies.”

   He could feel Erik smile against his cheek. “Maybe another time.”

   “I’m holding you to it.”

   “Feeling better, then?”

    “Little bit.”

   Erik just lightly bit his cheek and opened the back door around Charles so he could lift him into the back seat, making him sit all the way to the other end of it.

   “Thank you for everything,” Erik was saying in a muffled voice when the door closed and he was faced with Claire folding up the wheelchair.

   “Call if you need anything. And tomorrow. Pick up those crutches. He’s pretty stubborn. He’ll probably try to walk sooner than he should. Make sure he doesn’t try without you,” Claire told him.

  “I’ll take care of him.” Erik promised, climbing into the driver side. “Thanks again.”

   She waved them off as Erik started the car and left the parking lot. The car smelled nice, but even better with one of Erik’s jackets on the floor of the car that Charles expertly picked up and slipped on. Erik gave him a glance in the rear view mirror, shaking his head.

  “What? I like the way you smell,” Charles explained. “It’s…nice…Mind if I keep this for tonight? Might help me sleep.”

   “Is that you asking to stay in my side of the building?” Erik asked.

   “Maybe…would you mind that?”

   “No, I was planning on taking you there anyway. Your apartment is probably full of dust,” said Erik, glancing over his shoulder at Charles.

   Charles scowled. “For your sake, caretaker, I’d hope not. Or I’m spending the afternoon cleaning it, whether you like it or not.”

   “I can think of  _so many_  better ways to kill time this afternoon,” Erik commented.

   “I’m sure,” Charles chuckled. “So…what did you want to talk to me about? That you…couldn’t talk to me in there?”

  Abruptly, Erik’s smile faded, confusing Charles. He didn’t answer him immediately, settling into silence as he focused on the road. Charles tried to read into it, even get a feel on his emotions. It was hard to focus when a person was in conflict…even harder with someone like Erik who he couldn’t read directly like others. Harder because he had no context behind these emotions, no idea what was making Erik feel a mixture of guilt, of pain, and frustration.

   He focused harder, pushing upon the mental barriers, and he watched the other man stiffen in his seat, teeth exposed as he flinched.

   “Sorry…,”

   “It’s fine,” said Erik in a tense voice.

  Charles wanted to reach out to touch him, tell him it was all right…which proved to be a harder task in his current position.

    “It’s okay, Erik,” Charles said instead. “You don’t…have to hide anything from me.”

    Erik drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, that steely expression still on his face. Charles felt a wave of self-hatred already settle in on him. He had been so used to receiving other peoples’ thoughts without question…and now he was trying to invade Erik’s mind. He couldn’t deny that something felt different. The mental ‘barriers’ as he thought of them were still there…but they felt…softer somehow…

   As though they had been  **weakened.**

    “Let’s just wait until we get home,” said Erik.

    Charles nodded and the rest of the trip went in silence. Charles looked out the window, staring at the morning traffic both on street and on the sidewalks. Leaving Erik’s mind altogether, he was hit with a wave of different thoughts. He could hear the urgency of the taxi driver as he pulled into a high traffic lane, the impatience of his passenger mentally berating the driver for taking so long. He could hear the excitement in the thoughts of a woman eager to return home to a newborn child, pleased that her boss had given her the rest of the day off.

   He could hear the teenager skateboarding alongside his girlfriend and friend. They had skipped school today, openly out on the streets, far from the eyes of the principal who had a detention planned out for them this afternoon for graffiti in the on the bus seats.

   He could hear the thoughts of the girl who sat by herself in the middle of the park, randomly throwing out seeds to the pigeons who had gathered at her feet. Like Erik, her thoughts were scattered, but unlike him, she seemed space out. Lack of sleep.

  Looking at Erik now in the mirror, Charles could see dark bruises starting to appear under his eyes too. He hadn’t been resting well. He watched him, his head tilted, studying his profile for a moment.

  The man’s eyes were sharp, despite an outward blemish of exhaustion, darting all over the place. He was alert…and it wasn’t just because of Charles’s attempt to read him. It seemed like he was on edge…expecting an attack.

   “…Erik,” Charles whispered in a low voice. “…I’m sorry.”

   But he wasn’t even sure Erik had heard him, closing his eyes. Thoughts continued to pour in, but he had long since learned how to tune them out…or maybe this time his own fatigue won out. He started to fall asleep in his awkward sitting position, knowing he’d hate the decision later for his back.

   And he barely felt it when Erik pulled him out of the car, holding him bridal style almost effortlessly. He just leaned comfortably into the warmth, feeling Erik’s strange and fast heartbeat against his ear as he pressed his head to the other man’s chest.

* * *

   Hours must have passed when Charles came to. He was lying flat on his back, the ceiling of Erik’s room becoming clearer. He inhaled deeply, catching the fresh scent of flowers.  Looking next to him, Charles saw several vases full of different colored carnations, the other bedside table mirroring the same collection.

   Charles struggled to sit up. So that’s what he meant by getting him flowers. Charles reached over, tugging on one of the red rose petals, smiling slightly to himself.

   “I was actually planning on filling your apartment with them,” Erik spoke from the door, his arms crossed, leaning against the doorway. “but I figured breaking and entering wouldn’t be the _best_ way to get in your good graces. Plus…not to mention all that dust.”

   “I can tell you right now that repeatedly mentioning the state of unclean in my loft is definitely not going to get you anywhere. Unless you’re offering to clean it.”

   “I get the feeling you won’t like me hiring a maid,” said Erik, sliding off the wall and moving to approach. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, just opposite of Charles, leaning against the footboard now.

   “No…probably not,” Charles grinned.

   “Listen…about what happened earlier…,” Erik ran a hand through his hair.

   Charles finished for him. “Please…hold on…I wanted to apologize. Again. I’m…I’m so used to hearing minds. All of my life…it’s ironic that the moment I encounter people that I can’t hear, I make it a point to try to read them.”

  Emma…the assassin…Erik. He shouldn’t have been doing it at all, but he couldn’t help himself. It was selfish and completely wrong.

   “You see…?” Charles covered his face with his hand, pinching his nose. “…Why I can’t seem to get it together? Why would you even want to be with someone like this?”

  “Charles,” said Erik firmly.

  But Charles went on. “Not to mention all the danger I’m putting you in. You _have_ to understand that. I don’t want to risk your life. What if the person I’m after? What if they start going after the people I care for? I don’t want to put you in a position where I can’t protect you. And I _know_ you said I should let others protect me, but that’s not your job. It shouldn’t have to be. I’m the one who swore an oath to do it…to protect the lives of everyone in the city.”

   “Charles,” Erik tried again.

   “No. Please understand,” Charles answered, placing his hands flat on the bed, trying to lift himself up. “I should go.”

   Erik shifted his weight and the movement was too fast for Charles to catch, but a second later, the man was kneeling in front of him.

   “I wish you could hear my mind right now,” Erik admitted, his hand finding Charles’s on his lap, gripping him tight. “It would make things…so much less complicated.”

   “I really doubt that,” said Charles, but Erik wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at their joined hands, forehead creased in frustration again and Charles could only guess what he was thinking or where it came from.

   “….I’m leaving,” Erik finally said, keeping his gaze downward. “ I’m going…to Italy.”

   “Oh…that’s…nice,” said Charles, ignoring the lump that formed in his throat.

    Erik looked up, eyeing his expression for a moment. “It’s just a vacation…but I want you to come with me.”

   “To…To Italy? Erik, you know I can’t leave while….you know…my case,” said Charles.

   “Your case will be here when you get back,” Erik answered slowly.

   “…If something happens while I’m gone…,” Charles sighed. “…I can’t just leave everyone behind like this. Not while everyone is in danger.”

   “I can wait until you're healed...I don't want to go without you,” Erik implored him, giving his hand another squeeze. "This city...it's changed...the danger. I want to get away from it...and I want you to as well, even for a little while."

   "How long...would the trip be for?" Charles asked almost apprehensively.

   "Just a small vacation...Two weeks at most," Erik faced away from him, almost scared. "...Just put it on your list for consideration. I don't need an answer right away."

 

   “Okay…Okay I’ll think about it,” Charles told him.

   Erik stood upright, briefly bending to press his lips to Charles’s forehead. “Thank you.” 


	21. Restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo sorry about the long wait for this chapter. I had to do a few rewrites and what not. I promise the next update will be much sooner.

     It had not been an easy recovery for Erik in the aftermath of his last encounter with Jason and Emma. No, he was not physically damaged as he thought he would be…but something had shifted inside. The mental barriers he was once so proud of holding onto were significantly weaker than before. Hank had warned of this long ago when his mission first started that the increased exposure to a telepath would eventually cause a subconscious fall of his mental guard.

  It probably didn’t help that he had chosen to ignore that fact completely, continue to spend time with Charles and try to head on two telepaths…one of whom he willingly allowed inside of his mind.

  So what was happening now? Well…he _couldn’t_  sleep. Actually…more like he just  _wouldn’t_ sleep.

   Not after the first night back.

  He had fallen, exhausted into his bed and tried to shut out the world, tried to let the relief that Charles woke up and was safe permeate his thoughts.

   But that was the tricky thing about the mind.

   The subconscious  _always_ worked against you. It brought to the forefront everything you staved off thinking about.

   Especially when you were asleep.

   The dream felt vague…somehow distant now…but he could remember the emotional tremors that came from it, and it never failed to run a chill up Erik’s spine.

   Only some parts of it remained now.

    He remembered hearing singing…but it was not a comforting sound. It was like a lamenting sound, sung by hundreds of children. He remembered a long, winding hallway with windows covered by black mirrors, blotting out the sunlight.

   It was like a school that had been condemned by the tenants and reformed. The classrooms were empty, furniture removed and spiderwebs forming on every corner of each room. The windows here too were covered.

    Where the basketball court would be, there were several coffin sized holes that housed metal containers that would close with a booming thud that shut out all sound.

   He remembered the feel of gravel and concrete as it scraped and cut into his bare legs, cutting into his knees. He was being dragged by the arm with a vice like grip and when they finally came to the metal containers. He was dropped there, face planting into the dirt.

    _You know…Erik…one day…you’re going to **thank me.** You’ll thank me for your pain.  This hurts me…far more than it hurts you._

   He woke in a cold sweat, his loft had taken considerate damage. It wasn’t in perfect shape before due to his earlier argument with Raven, but this was much worse. All of his lights had been shattered. Drawers were open from various cabinets with metallic kitchen cutlery and tools strewn all over the place. The sink had completely impacted on itself, exposing long metal pipes that had also looked like they had been twisted yanked out of place.

  It looked like irreparable damage.

  He had spent the entire day trying to get it fixed. The various servicemen he had hired all had the same question. Was there a break in? Erik just went with it. Yes, a break in and they never found what they were looking for. They were just angry and had an obvious hatred for appliances and kitchen cutlery.

   He hadn’t tried sleeping since then. It had been four days.  

    He didn’t want to risk it. Especially with Charles so near. Lucky for him, insomnia wasn’t an immediate problem as it would be for a normal human that hadn’t slept. The organization trained you to be able to be efficient for as long as possible. So his body was more acclimated to the fatigued state.

  That didn’t stop him from just blankly staring at the granite pattern on his countertop, trying to concentrate while he reflected over his nightmare. He blinked a few times to clear his fuzzy mindset, but even then, part of him wanted to just sway on the spot and let himself fall over.

   Thoughts went to Raven and Hank…the ones he had left behind. They had both made it clear they wanted nothing to do with what Erik was up to as long as it involved Charles. Raven more so than Hank. His loft had been empty when he returned from the Diamond Towers, and the disappearance of the HankSpy device was like a nail in the coffin. The earpiece was left behind and Erik was tempted, several times to just plug it into his ear, listen and see if Hank was there.

  But he resisted that temptation…despite his concern for the two of them.  This concern played its part in keeping Erik from doing what he originally intended to do: retire. He was congratulated by Shaw over the phone for Jason’s death, given whatever apology that Shaw could spit out for his loss and then it was back to business, referring several open contracts for Erik to take in the city. He ignored the forwarded messages with the details for the most part, waiting for something else to flash across the screen besides Shaw’s stupid name.

   “Come on,” Erik muttered to himself.

   So now he was talking to electronic devices? He  _must_ have missed Hank.

  He willed himself to move, give up on trying to make breakfast, and head back into the bedroom where he sat down besides Charles. The weight on the bed had the detective shift again under the covers, rolling onto his back.

  His eyes opened on Erik, and a smile spread across his face.

    “Erik…”

   “Charles,” Erik leaned down to press his lips to Charles’s cheek, lingering there. “…I don’t want you to go back to work today.”

   He knew that they would likely give him desk work on the count of the injury…and he knew that the other man was too stubborn to ask for more days off. He had a feeling that even if the injury ended up worse, even if Charles ended up paralyzed, which he very easily could have, he would still want to go back to work the next day.

   “I have to,” said Charles.

   “Hmm,” Erik murmured, pulling back a few inches. “…I’m getting good at this.”

   “Good at what?”

   “Reading you,” said Erik.

   “Are you saying I’m predictable?” Charles teased.

   “Not at all,” Erik brushed aside a few strands of hair from Charles’s temple. “I’m saying you’re a good man. If I were you, I’d take as much time off as possible. Work the system. You’ve earned this time off.”

   Charles figured he was slightly hinting at the vacation he had propositioned him with. But he cupped Erik’s cheek. “A lot of people would do that. I know…but I can’t. This case is too important to me.”

   “I know,” said Erik seriously.

   “Plus I can’t be lying down all the time,” Charles joked, letting Erik go so he could sit up. He had tried a few times to walk with the crutch that Erik had brought. Nothing quite stopped the shooting pains he had from any movement on the leg. Sitting up, taking a step, it was always there. The only thing Charles had managed so far was not wincing every time he felt it.

  But in the mornings, the pain was at its worst and he couldn’t help himself.

   Erik placed a hand on the small of his back to support him as Charles stretched. The detective placed his fists on the bed and started to rise, swinging his casted leg around.

   “Oh…you don’t have to…,” Charles mumbled as Erik moved to take a hold of him under the arms and help him stand. He gripped his shoulders as he had learned to steady himself. The crutch was handed off to him.

   “I know,” said Erik. He kept a hold on Charles’s shoulder.

   “Thank you…Erik…If I haven’t said it enough. For everything…for helping me,” Charles told him.

   “You don’t…,” Erik answered, pausing for a moment. “…You don’t have to thank me for looking after you, Charles.”

   “Of course I do,” said Charles insistently. “I’m going to…try to take a shower. Hopefully, I’ll have better luck than last time.”

   Last time being yesterday when he insisted on using his own bathroom and handle it alone. He didn’t slip, thankfully, but he almost did a few times. Erik insisted on the detective using his bathroom just because he had a tub and Charles only had a shower. At least there was something he could sit on.

   “Hopefully,” said Erik. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help you this time?”

   Charles turned a bright red. “I’m sure….I mean…I don’t want to be any trouble.”

   “You’re not,” said Erik, though his head tilted. “I’m not trying to get a peek, angel. I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

   “No, I know,” said Charles quickly. “I just…I don’t mind if you peek… This cast is ugly though, I mean...I hate it with a burning passion? If you had to look, it shouldn’t be like this, you know what I mean?”

   Erik tightened his hold on him. “You know I’ve seen my fair share of injuries. And being injured doesn’t…change anything. It doesn’t make me think any less of you…in any way.”

   “I know…I know,” said Charles again.

   “Let’s go…I promise I won’t peek.. You just draw the curtain,” said Erik.

   Charles frowned at him, but slowly, he nodded and started limping towards the bathroom, Erik holding onto his elbow to keep him balanced. Once they were inside, Erik helped set him down on the edge of the tub where Charles managed to painfully raise his cast leg up, the other leg curled on the inside.

   “I hate this. I can’t wait until this stupid thing comes off,” Charles growled.

   “Patience,” Erik told him, starting up the water and changing the setting to warm. He backed up then, taking a hold of the curtains and pulling them around the detective so that they gave Charles the modesty he desired. The assassin heard the spike in his heartbeat as he removed his shirt and dropped it behind him.

  Erik had to focus for a moment, try to ignore the fact that Charles was getting naked behind a semi-transparent shower curtain. He leaned against the sink counter and focused on a random pattern on his wall as steam started to fill the room.

   “You want me to stand outside?” Erik asked in a low voice.

      “No…it’s fine. I like you close by,” Charles answered sheepishly. There was a sound of splashing water for a bit as Charles wet the loofa in the water and used it to cleanse what he could reach. It wasn’t the most conventional way to bathe himself but he heard horror stories about mishandling the cast and what could happen if moisture got into it.

   “You know…it was hard for me to keep relationships because of my ability. I always knew what someone  _really_  thought of me. I always knew when someone was annoyed with something I did before they could even express it.  I suppose instead of being frustrated that I can’t read you as well…,” Another splash of water as Charles’s uninjured leg kicked through the tub.

   “I should really be relieved at the silence. At least it saves me the trouble of hearing anything too intrusive,”

   Erik closed his eyes but made no response.

   “What about you? Anything serious before this…before me? I should really get into the habit of asking,” Charles reprimanded himself. “Especially with you. To be honest, you’re not the first person I’ve had trouble reading. Seems to be happening more and more often lately. I guess I never really encountered someone who could resist my…ability.”

   “It’s fine,” said Erik somewhat stiffly.

   “You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to…if it’s too soon…or too much,” said Charles awkwardly.

   Erik remained silent for a few minutes, lost in his thoughts. He heard Charles turn, peek from behind the curtains to confirm that Erik was still there.

   “..It’s  **funny** …I’ve never really thought about that sort of thing. But now that you…ask me…it feels weird to just…admit it. But no…before you, there was no one.”

  “No one?” Charles repeated, peering behind the curtain at the other man again.

  Erik shook his head, the familiar bitter humorless smile that Charles was starting to dislike. Erik’s thoughts may have been shielded from him somehow….but there was a link between the emotions in his thoughts, his expressions.

  The assassin heard a splash of water, bringing him fully back to reality, then the sound of the drain. Suddenly feeling more intrusive then he already was, Erik opened the door, the steam misting out.

  “Wait…Erik…,” Charles called out feebly. Erik heard the detective scramble around as best as he could, and when he emerged from his bathroom, he was wearing one of Erik’s white bathrobes. He took a hold of Erik’s hand before he could fully move into the bedroom, pulling the other man around to meet his embrace.

   “I didn’t mean to upset you,” said Charles, misunderstanding why Erik left. “…If it’s a sore subject.”

   “You didn’t upset me,” said Erik, wrapping his arms around Charles’s waist and pulling him close. A step was taken and Charles was passed over his feet just as they had during the dance at Fisk’s benefit.

  “You know…if you’re not ready now…for something serious. I’m okay with that. I’m okay with just staying friends,” said Charles.

  Though how they looked now, they didn’t look like friends. Erik released him and took both of his hands, holding them between them. He flattened one of Charles’s palms on his chest, right over his heart where the organ beat irregularly underneath.

   “…I don’t think I’d ever be able to see you as just a friend.”

  Charles’s hand slid up, taking Erik’s cheek, bringing him down so he could kiss him properly. The kiss was short and chaste with Erik maintaining control like he always did. The detective applied pressure to his feet as much as he could where Erik was forced to take a step back.

  He broke the kiss, eyebrow raising on Charles. “Charles, what are you--“

  Erik broke off when Charles applied even more pressure, heavily leaning his body on Erik so a few more steps were taken and he had no choice but to fall backwards on the bed with Charles on top of him. Charles ignored the painful protest in his thigh and knee at the impact.

  After insuring Charles seemed comfortable, Erik’s fingers interlocked behind his head while Charles laid his head on Erik’s arm.  Erik cracked open one eye, catching Charles’s grimace of pain as he continued to adjust his lower body.

   “Are you all right?”

   “I _really_ don’t want to wear this thing anymore,” Charles complained again. But his fingers curled on Erik’s shirt, just over his heart.

   “It could have been a lot worse,” Erik’s eyes tightened for a minute at the thought. Charles could have been crushed entirely and left with nothing. He didn’t want to visualize it, but he had to be grateful that a broken leg was all Charles had managed to come out with.

   “I know…I know…that’s always the case,” said Charles. “I should be grateful. I mean…it’s just a broken leg…and I’m glad that you managed to get out of it without injury.”

  “Me too,” said Erik. Though he wasn’t glad for everything that transpired after. Mitchell’s face pre-mortem flashed into his mind alongside Jason’s and Emma’s. No, Emma wasn’t a casualty of this, but that was hardly a consolation.

  Erik had killed two of his associates for Charles. One of them was now taking credit for everything Erik had done. But the detective would probably know better than to believe that Mitchell was the one he had been chasing.

   He didn’t really care for Mitchell’s death since the bastard had unnecessary blown up a building to try to kill Fisk, killing nearly everyone but the person he wanted to kill.

   But he felt a hole inside of him whenever he thought of Jason, nearly shuddering at the thought. He did what he had to do to stop him, but that didn’t make it easier to face. It was just like his first kill all over again. All that extra baggage and trauma returning, giving him sleepless nights.

  He kept wondering if there was something else he could have done….if there had been another way, and he was too blindsided by trying to save Charles.

  “You’re doing that thing you do,” said Charles, breaking Erik’s train of thought again.

   “What thing?”

   “Spacing out. Frowning,” Charles explained, hovering over Erik to peer at his expression. He frowned too, thumb brushing over the corner of Erik’s lips where he tried to force it up.

  It succeeded in earning a small smile from the other man.

  “Sorry…I have a lot on my mind.”

“There we go,” Charles leaned down to cover Erik’s lips with his own. Heat flooded his face, but he didn’t stop himself from deepening it, from running his tongue over the seam of Erik’s mouth, earning a groan from the other man that made his heart race.

   Charles’s weight pressed into Erik’s side, his hands roaming, fingers fumbling with the end of Erik’s shirt, pulling the fabric up. He felt the warmth of Erik’s skin, felt the sharp inhale as Erik reflexively pulled his stomach in and then as his hand travelled further, he felt the puckered edge of a scar.

  Pulling away from Erik’s lips, he looked down at the other man, heated breath between them.

   “Are you sure you didn’t get injured in the explosion?” Charles asked quietly.

   “Yes,”

  Charles adjusted himself, sitting up on one elbow so he could pull Erik’s shirt up further and see for himself. The scar was larger than Charles anticipating. It looked like it had been done with a three pronged blade, because there was slash marks right over Erik’s heart, the middle mark being the shortest.

   “My God…Who did this to you?”

   Erik eyed his tense expression, trying to get a read on what he was feeling beyond concern, if anything bordered on suspicion. Erik tugged his shirt from Charles’s grasp and set it back in place.

  “It’s nothing. It was a long time ago,” said Erik dismissively.

    “Are you kidding? This is clearly not self inflicted…or done by an explosion. Someone or  _something_  hurt you. What was this from?”

   “A fight,”

   “Yes…I can see that,” Charles measured his words slowly, glowering down at the other man for his light tone. “Who or rather… _what_ were you fighting?” 

     Erik just looked back at him blankly. Right now he couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse that wouldn’t make him sound strange, because there really wasn’t an animal that struck an intruder like this. 

     And Charles… 

    Charles’s gaze, too honest, too trusting was…very distracting.

  He couldn’t believe he was having _trouble_ lying to him. It’s **all** he was doing so far, and now his brain wasn’t cooperating with him.

  “There’s more…,” Charles murmured, taking hold of the fabric again and moving it further up near his neck where another scar was visible on his left side just below the armpit from something else.

   But Erik’s grip was suddenly firm on Charles’s wrist, halting his movement. He gently guided Charles’s hand away from him and sat up, breaking their locked gazes as he moved his legs over the edge of the bed, preparing to stand.

   It was easier to lie to Charles when he wasn’t looking directly at him.

    “…When I was a child, I used to get into fights. A lot,” Erik explained. All right, so this wasn’t a _total_  lie. He did get into fights…but none of them were fights _he_ provoked as one might think.

   “Erik…,” Charles adjusted his position again, scooting to the edge without disturbing his cast. He managed to get as close as he could, hesitantly reaching out to take Erik’s shoulders, pressing his cheek to Erik’s back, leaning there. He wanted to hear his heartbeat, find the comfort there, but this would have to do.

   “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Charles told him. “I don’t want you to feel…like you can’t.”

  Erik leaned forward, elbows on his knees, almost out of Charles’s reach. His hands went to his face, fingers rubbing circles around his eyes.

   “Erik…” Charles started again, begging this time. “Please.”

   Erik let out a deep breath. “ I’m tired…”

   “You want to sleep?”

     _I’m tired of lying._  

 Erik moved, twisting his body around, capturing Charles underneath his arm and pushing him gently back to the bed. Their lips met again, gentle at first before Charles could feel Erik’s heart beat increase even more, hard against his chest.

   Charles felt the pillows underneath him, cushioning him as Erik took his breath away, his tongue slipping inside. It was a hard kiss, lips moving feverishly, desperately against his own. He climbed on top, pushing Charles’s good leg aside so he could settle between.

  Charles brought his knee up flush to Erik’s waist. Only a thin layer of Erik’s robe and Erik’s jeans separated them from feeling each other completely. Erik took a hold of Charles’s wrists, pinning them on either side of his head as he ground his body against Charles, eliciting a harsh moan from the detective as Erik’s hands loosened, freeing him.

  Erik broke their kiss and Charles surfaced for breath over Erik’s shoulder, gripping him back around his chest, fingers curled into the back of Erik’s shirt.

   He was hit with the most intense emotional wave he had ever felt in his life. Erik’s pleasure, his excitement was overshadowed by so much grief that he could feel his eyes burn, glazing with unshed tears.

   “Erik….,” Charles muttered, his hands sliding over his shoulder blades to settle on his chest, gently pushing him back so he could look at his face. Barely a second passed before Erik crushed his lips to Charles’s again, breaking the moments’ reprieve.

  Charles couldn’t take it. He felt the desire, the heat, and his own body responding…but something felt…wrong. He turned his face, trying to catch his breath again, breaking the kiss himself this time and pushing Erik back with a little more force.

  His hands rested on Erik’s neck, staring up at him. Erik’s eyes were burning into his. One blink passed to the next and he felt like he was standing in an endless hallway of doors, each one closed off to him.

   “Erik…please…,” Charles pleaded with him. “Just tell me. It’ll be all right.”

   Erik made a strangled noise, face pressing into the pillows beside Charles. His grip on the sheets and comforter next under Charles tightened.

   “Please, Erik,” Charles said again. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand his pain. It was too much. The tears he managed to withhold fell now, trailing on either side of his face.

   “You’ll hate me,” said Erik in a muffled voice.

   “I won’t,” Charles promised, pressing his lips to Erik’s neck and shoulder. “ I won’t…I won’t. I promise. I could never…”

   They stayed like this for a long moment. Charles wrapped his arms around the other man, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

   “Listen to me,” said Erik, pulling back. He caged Charles again, taking Charles’s hands and pinning him to the bed once more, this time their fingers were interlocked.

   “There’s something I have to tell you,”

   Charles felt his heartbeat increase, felt his body somewhat tremble underneath him. Some of Erik’s emotions were so strong, he must have been feeling them reverberate through himself.

   “…You can tell me,” Charles whispered.

   “Everything I’ve done…since the moment we met…has been for you.”

   _To protect you._

  “….You need to know that. You need to understand that,” Erik released one hand to cup his chin. “Tell me you understand.”

   Charles didn’t know what he fully meant by that, but he nodded. “I understand.”

   “Charles…,” Erik began slowly. “I’m the one—”

   A loud ring began to sound off from the bedside table. Charles’s phone began to vibrate on the surface, the familiar ringtone growing louder. From Erik’s cage, Charles leaned up so he could see the name on the screen.

   Alex.

   “Ignore it,” Erik ordered.

   “It could be about the case,” Charles argued. He started to wriggle from Erik’s hold and the other man relented, releasing him fully and sitting back.

  The case. Another demonstration of where Charles’s priorities _really_ were.

   _To Erik,_  ironically enough.

   Erik sat up from the bed,  his back to Charles.

   “Hey,” Charles greeted Alex in a somewhat tense voice.

   Erik heard his partner on the other side.

    “Hey,” Alex replied. “How are you feeling about coming in today?” 

   “Nervous,” said Charles honestly. “Not really looking forward to desk work.”

   “Better than sitting at home, I bet. Well…you’re with your  _boyfriend,_ ” Alex teased him. “So I guess that helps the mood drop.”

   Charles glanced at Erik’s back as the other walked out of the room, heading into the kitchen where he had his hands braced on the kitchen counter.

   “It does…but I want to come in,” Charles replied, slowly starting to stand where he hopped awkwardly to the bathroom to retrieve his crutch. “I’ll be there soon. Erik is going to drop me off.”

   “No need. I’m actually outside your loft right now,” Alex told him.

   “Really?”

   “I was in the area.”

   “I’ll be down in fifteen. Grab a coffee or something. I just need to get dressed,” said Charles, limping out of Erik’s bedroom. “Erik. Alex is downstairs right now…I have to—”

   “Go…I know,” said Erik, not turning.

   Silence settled between them, both of them thinking of what just happened…Charles in wonderment over what Erik was going to say and Erik in dread over the same thing. It was hard to tell if they had both dodged a bullet for the moment.

   “Let’s finish our talk later,” said Charles at last.

   “I don’t want you to go out there. It’s not safe,” said Erik tightly. “Promise me…Promise me that all you’re doing today is desk work. Nothing stressful.”

   “You know as a cop I’m obligated to tell you that every day is stressful,” Charles answered.

   “And I’m obligated to tell you that I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Erik faced him, taking his shoulders, hands sliding up to rest on his neck. “It’s enough…you’ve given more than enough to this city.”

   Charles took a hold of his wrists. “…A broken leg is nothing.”

   “But I heard the news. I heard he was caught,” said Erik. “Case closed.”

   Erik searched the man’s expression, confirming an earlier thought that Charles didn’t believe Mitchell was the one behind everything. Didn’t hurt to hope that he bought into it anyway.

   “Not quite,” said Charles. “Erik…I know you’re worried about me…but I  _have_  to see this through to the end.” 

   “No, you don’t,” said Erik firmly. This argument was worn now. Erik knew there wasn’t a point in trying to convince Charles to just  _let it go_ , but he tried anyway.

  One more time.

   “I don’t want any more people to die,” Charles whispered. “I _can’t_  have that on my conscience. There’s someone out there who can…and I can’t abide by that.”

   Erik’s hold on Charles didn’t tighten but Charles almost expected it to, with how his eyes seemed to smolder in response to Charles’s words. Abruptly, Charles was released from it and the man turned his back to him again, hand raised and covering his mouth.

   “I want to finish our talk later. I’ll be home tonight. Safe and sound, I promise. Alex is good for it.” Charles assured him.

   Charles started to approach him, using his free hand to grip Erik’s arm, prompting him gently to turn. Erik learned down to press his lips against Charles’s. Short and sweet, but Erik’s eyes had lost their fire, curiously dead as he looked down at him.

  “Be careful,” Erik told him.

   “I always am,” said Charles. In the light, he could see the dark circles under Erik’s eyes. “Get some sleep. Now that I’m not occupying your bed….you should.”

   “I will,” Erik lied. The building couldn’t handle it.

    “See you tonight.”


	22. Confession

     Charles was in such a rush to leave the loft, anxious to talk to Alex, to see what he had learned. He hobbled into the elevator with a parting look at the corridor between Erik and his lofts before the doors closed, shutting him out. His heart was still beating hard in his chest from their conversation. He couldn’t quite guess what the other was going to tell him, yet the ghost of the pain lingered on the edges of Charles’s mind like an echo he couldn’t ignore.

      Of course he went to the obvious, self-depreciating conclusions first. Firstly, that there was _someone else._ There had to be. It wouldn’t kill Erik this much to tell him…either that or the idea of a committed relationship scared him…After all, he had said there was nothing serious before Charles came along.

     Suddenly, he was in doubt of what would come from the conversation later.

     “This better not be a waste of time,” said Charles as soon as he got into Alex’s car, giving his partner a reproachful look. “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

     “Kind of in the middle of something with Erik?” Alex questioned, looking Charles over. Some of his usually perfect hair was out of place. “I’m sure you’ve been having tons of fun these last few days.”

     “It isn’t like that,” Charles glowered at him.

    “Uh huh,” Alex replied in disbelief. “I dunno. You didn’t see him when you were injured. The way he looks at you…”

      Charles was left staring unabashedly at Alex’s memory. He saw his own face reflected through Alex’s eyes, hooked up to machines, looking fast asleep. Then he saw how Alex looked at Erik, the shock in his eyes, the pain and concern.

      He felt a wave of affection for the man, and then guilt for putting him through it all. It was Charles who felt the most guilt for dragging Erik to Fisk’s benefit, putting him in danger, yet looking at Erik, he could see none of that blame or anger through Alex’s memory….and it deeply touched him.

     “…He’s a very intense person,” said Charles, reflecting back to a few moments ago when he was underneath Erik, looking up at his smoldering gaze that only seemed to burn.

     He could still recall how it felt to feel Erik’s erratic heart when their bodies became flush together. He could still feel the heat that settled between them as Erik’s breath left him and brushed Charles’s lip through their kiss. The thought caused his own heart to skip a beat.

    “He really is,” Alex agreed.

     Charles wanted to say the case could be damned so he could have Alex turn around, go all the way back to Erik, shove him against the wall…and demand that he finish what he started.

     Erik had been on cusp of telling Charles something, and Charles knew if he thought on it any longer, it would lead his pessimist mind nowhere good and he had delved pretty deep into that hole already.

     He didn’t want to voice this with Alex, get his theories. Saying it out loud might make the dark train of thought real…No, he had to give Erik the chance to tell him on his own time.

    “Alvarez wanted to talk to you as soon as you got in,” said Alex, glancing at Charles’s expression. “Oh, he’s Stryker’s replacement.”

    “He wants to speak to me?” Charles asked. He figured it was the official stamp of approval for desk work.

    “…Yeah…he said it was important. So it might be about the case after all,” said Alex.

  _Not sure why he’d want to talk about it after Director Frost said the investigation was dropped…but who knows?_ Alex thought.

    “We’ll see, I guess,” Charles answered.

     Charles barely settled when they walked in, heading straight for the Captain’s office. For the last few days, he had Erik help him with various tasks…including walking nearly every time Charles did it. Now it was annoying to use this crutch again, and it only annoyed him more when it got caught between the wall and the door of Alvarez’s office.

      He had already made some changes, taking down Stryker’s son’s trophies and placing them in a box to put up his own personal touch to the place. It was clear that Alvarez was an ex-marine just by the USMC flag sitting by the American flag on his desk. And there’s pictures of a younger Alvarez alongside several camouflage-clad soldiers in a desert.

     The man himself was about Stryker’s age, wrinkles around his eyes and cheeks, yet the look on his face was much more severe. Charles could admit to himself that he never liked Stryker and his shrugging of Charles’s case before Emma’s arrival, but looking at this man’s face, he felt he would have a little more trouble convincing him to get anything done.

    Then of course Charles brushed his mind, but found it was a little harder to read him. He was a man in constant present-tense, only focusing on the now, surface thoughts becoming prevalent.

     “Detective,” Alvarez greeted from behind his desk, rising. He indicated the chair in front of him. “take a seat.”

    “It’s nice to finally meet you, sir,” Charles replied respectfully.

     “And you…I’ve heard good things,” said Alvarez.

     Charles bit his tongue. If he heard anything from Stryker, then there really wasn’t a chance he said ‘good’ things.

    “I understand you’ve been investigating the recent string of murders these past few months. Deaths, that according to your case file…are not suicides,” Alvarez went on, pulling a manilla folder from his desk that Charles recognized as his own.

     “Yes,” said Charles, bracing himself. If he went any further here, he may as well steel himself for the inevitable mockery and laughter.

     “Deputy Director Frost has ordered this investigation closed,” Alvarez stated.

    “I know.”

    “However, if she cared so much about the outcome of this investigation, perhaps she would have stayed in her position,” Alvarez continued.

   That caught Charles off-guard. “…I’m sorry, what?”

   Alvarez just looked at him with hard, dark eyes. “…Deputy Director Frost resigned this morning. There hasn’t been an official statement yet, but yes.”

   Charles was silent for a long moment as he absorbed this. Thoughts of Emma Frost being paid to keep silent or threatened were growing stronger by the second.

   Alvarez slapped the folder down and placed his elbows atop, fingers interlocking. “ Detective Xavier, I understand you’ve been under some scrutiny…from your previous captain because of this case. Is that right?”

    Scrutiny was putting it lightly. He would have called it ridicule.

   “…Yes.”

     The Captain leaned back in his seat, swinging his chair in a half circle to face the window. He stood up and approached it. He had a good view of the city from here. Charles had always been jealous of it.

   “You know I’ve been on the force for nearly twenty years now. _Twenty years_ ,” said Alvarez with hard emphasis. “…if you told me that one day the sky would open up to space and aliens would pour from a hole in the sky, I might ask what Sci-Fi series you’ve been dreaming of….and then it happens. If you told me that a guy with a magic hammer can control the weather helped save the city…or that man in an iron suit had the power to save thousands…I’d have laughed at you. And then of course, you see him on the news from time to time, cracking a joke or two.”

     Alvarez scoffed to himself. He was speaking of the incident. Charles was not present for it, having been out of town during that, but he saw the footage…and it was unbelievable. The world they lived in was an incredible landscape. People with superhuman powers saving the world were all over the place now. If Charles didn’t have his own mutation, he’d be in awe just like the Captain.

    “I understand that you believe that there is some kind of cult involved…some kind of guild,” said Alvarez.

     Charles’s response caught in his throat. He knew for a fact that he hadn’t put that down in his casefile. At least not the one for work. The casework he compiled in his hidden office at home…however…was another story.

     “Your partner already spoke to me,” Alvarez explained. “He says the one you encountered…has the power to control metal.”

    _Damn it, Alex._

    Here it came, the mockery, the laughter. Charles inhaled deeply and gave the captain a stony glare.

     Alvarez seemed to choose his words carefully, his hand covering his lips. He turned his back on the window and it was just then with the sunlight, that Charles noted a faint scar on his cheek running the length of his jawline.

     “…In a world like this…I feel like there’s a cause and effect,” The captain told him. “A good element always attracts a bad one.”

     Charles blinked at his words. “…Sir?”

     Alvarez went back to his desk, opening a drawer and taking a red folder out. Charles remained silent while he flipped through it, searching for something.

      “Strictly speaking…and following protocol,” Alvarez’s gaze shot up to Charles, his emphasis heavy once more. “…I’m supposed to be following directive. So for all intents and purposes, I called you in here to reiterate my orders from Director Frost…prior to her ‘resignation’ “

     He air quoted the last word, which made Charles fight a bit of a smile. It looked like he wasn’t the only one thinking that Frost had been paid off.

      “…and I did not…under any circumstances…direct you to a person who might help your case,” said Alvarez, pushing a mugshot of a young man towards Charles. He eyed the picture and the description next to it.

      “Remy LeBeau,” Alvarez said the name as Charles read it off the page. “You can see by the two pages, that he’s got a heavy list of charges.”

      And he really did. Over ten counts of shoplifting, twelve counts of robbery, one of armed robbery, eighteen counts of motor vehicle theft, aggravated assault and the list went on and on. With all these charges, this man would probably be serving a life sentence without committing murder.

     He looked up at Alvarez, expecting more of an explanation.

       “I’m not even sure that’s his real name. He’s been in and out of the system for years. Not too long ago, he was nearly charged with murder one, but he got off,” Alvarez told him.

     “How? What happened?”

      “Dead cop. LeBeau was found in the wrong place at the wrong time,” said Alvarez. “I don’t think he did it either. Not his style. But…when we caught him, he claimed it was the work of an organization of assassins.”

     Charles froze for a second.

     “I’m guessing that was dismissed.”

     Alvarez nodded. “LeBeau was just a suspect. The case was dropped because there was no evidence that there was a murder at all in the end, despite how brutal the crime scene looked.”

     Charles could see the memory as Alvarez reflected on it. It was the pool room in a mansion, the victim found with a slit throat and the knife that caused it a few inches from his hand. He could see LeBeau surrounded by two police officers getting questioned, wearing a tuxedo dress shirt. In this memory, he was very young, no older than perhaps seventeen or eighteen. A blood-stained apron was around his waist.

      The boy had a rugged look even at this age. Handsome strong features. He had short brown hair, buzzed short at this time. Yet his most striking feature was his eyes which were a light amber color nearing red.

      Charles pulled away from this memory after a moment to focus back on the present.

     “You think he may know more,” said Charles.

      “I think you should be very…careful, Detective,” Alvarez answered cautiously. “…Remy LeBeau is a thief, first and foremost. He arrived in the city a few months ago…We’ve been keeping watch on his movements, but thus far, he’s just purchased a mansion outside of the city and frequenting the Resorts Casino near the airport. It’s somewhat…unusual for him. He usually keeps to his hometown.”

      Charles glanced at the file. New Orleans.

      “Sir…with all due respect…why are you telling me this?”

       Alvarez linked his fingers together again, looking at Charles with nothing but sincerity. “Because we took an oath to protect and serve our country to the best of our ability. The local detectives are a wash…if they haven’t caught this individual and despite what the Director may have thought, this is a very large problem. Not just to the city…but to the nation as a whole. Wouldn’t you agree with that?”

      “I would,” said Charles, smiling despite himself. It was a relief…an immense relief to hear Alvarez say this, to see this from a point of view that Charles could relate with.

      “Good,” said Alvarez. “The new Director…whenever he or she comes in will understand. You’ll be awarded for this, Detective.”

      But Charles was never in this for the awards or the medals.

     “I don’t care about an award,” said Charles honestly. “I just want to sleep better at night.”

      “You and me both,” Alvarez agreed. “Now…LeBeau isn’t going to help you without gaining something in return. Especially for something like this. I think a cleaned record is a good incentive to help.”

      “Thank you, sir,” said Charles.

      “Tell him he has the word of the Bureau to honor that, should we get his consent. If he sets up a meeting, you know what to do,” said Alvarez.

      Charles grimaced slightly. Setting up a meeting meant wearing a wire and just looking at LeBeau’s track record, a wire wasn’t going to be something easily convinced. Especially if he was setting up a meeting with an assassin who would have expected as such.

     “I’ll do what I can,” said Charles, standing up.

      Alvarez was stacking papers on his desk. “Do what? I just told you what Director Frost ordered.”

      The captain was looking at him with a keen gaze, but he saw the amused glint shining in his eye.

     Charles fought a smile. “Right you are.”

     “Good luck, Detective,” said Alvarez. “I’m giving you permission to do whatever you need to do to capture this individual. Keep me up to date….I mean keep me up to date on you understanding these orders. I can always repeat them any time you need.”

     “Thank you, Captain.”

       Charles then spent the better part of the next hour explaining what Alvarez had told him to Alex. He was looking at the profile of Remy LeBeau that Charles had brought with him, a frown on his face.

      “So we’re going after a thief now…,” said Alex, looking over LeBeau's mugshot and list of charges. All of them seemed to happen when he was younger, more careless. None of these charges were recent...unless LeBeau had stacked up enough money to start paying cops to look the other way down in New Orleans. "...and from the looks of it, a master thief at that."

      “What’s wrong?” Charles asked, taking a glance at Alex's apprehensive expression.

      But his partner was a little more hesitant. "…You know normally, I’d be a little excited. Scared shitless, but excited. Though…after a bomb goes off and nearly kills your best friend?? I’m a little…on the fence about all this.”

      “About what?” Charles prompted.

     “This case,” said Alex. “I’m having second thoughts. I mean, don’t get me wrong…I’m not letting you go in there alone. I mean…where are we going exactly?”

     “Resorts World Casino. Tonight,” said Charles.

     “Damn,”

     “What’s wrong, Alex?”

     Alex just stared at Charles, letting his thoughts speak for him.

  _Pursuing this case seems more dangerous than it’s worth_.

     “You’d rather we let him get away with it?”

  _I’d rather we not get killed. Everything about this just seems…off. Not what Alvarez is saying, but how it started with Emma and then she just up and vanished. I mean, that’s just…_

      “All the more reason we keep pursuing it,” said Charles.

      _Not exactly where I was going…but good effort._

     “I don’t want to stop right now…This may be the only chance we have,” Charles told him.

  _Or the last chance too. As in no more after that cause we’ll be dead…and he’ll be laughing._

       “Have faith in me,” said Charles firmly. “If you don’t have faith in anything else, then have some in me.”

       Alex paused, his thoughts jumbling as he struggled to think on what to say. But he needed Charles to see this in his contorting expression...his desperate tone. “…This has never been about doubting _you,_ Charles. This has been about the…outside… _variables_ causing problems. You almost got blown to hell for this. I mean isn't that a literal _punch to the face_ for us? Isn't that literally a fucking...'shelf this shit' sign that we need to stop now? We know this **cult** or what have you...is behind what happened with Fisk. Do we really want to be...pursuing people like this?”

      "What do you mean?"

      "I mean I'm getting the impression that this is better off left to the military," said Alex, his face hardening when Charles rolled his eyes at him. "I'm being serious."

     "I know you are. That's what makes it ridiculous. Besides...we both know there's someone else out there. Someone much more dangerous."

      _Goddamn it._

 _"_ Don't look at me like that, Alex. You know I'm right."

     "Charles...I hate to sound like a broken record here," And now it was Charles's turn to scowl. Alex raised a hand to silence him as his mouth opened indignantly. "But...you need to hear it."

      "Alex.."

     "He saved you," Alex's voice rose. "I mean...we can deny that all we want...but the point is, where you told me you were? I don't think we would have gotten to you in time before you were completely suffocated to death."

     Charles's eyes closed, trying to find patience in the depths of his soul. He tried to discard Alex's comment and inner thoughts that were pushing into Charles's mind, trying to push the seesaw down in the other direction.

    "It doesn't matter," said Charles after a moment. "... We still don't know what the motive was there."

    "Maybe there wasn't one and a mutant was _looking after_ another mutant," said Alex pointedly. "and I think you know that, Charles. I doubt you're just planning on throwing him into a cell the next time you see him."

    Charles's jaw ticked as he weighed his partner's words. Was that really what it was? No, he couldn't believe that. Being an enforcer of the law meant he wasn't meant to figure out the motive behind the crime. It was his job to find the crime. It had to be that black and white, because being impartial even the slightest would cost him everything.

   But even then...he had spent a great deal of his career working to understand the minds that had come his way. Why should this one be any different? 

   No...because if Charles was being honest with himself, he would acknowledge the fact that he wanted to know this mutant. Not just because he had a power, a mutation like he did...but because like with the patients who used to sit opposite him, he wanted to know his mind too.

    Yet he didn't want to say that....Not out loud anyway. 

     And for this, he was grateful that his partner could not read minds like him. He couldn't imagine what Alex would say, but he was **right** regardless. 

     He didn't plan on just putting the assassin in a cell and just walking away. 

     Charles's voice was steady, surprising even himself as he met Alex's concerned gaze.  “If this…LeBeau can point us in the right direction…then I promise I’ll see this through the way it’s meant to be."

 Alex rubbed the back of his neck, expression pinching somewhat. "...I just don't want you to get hurt, Charles. Hell, I don't want either of us to get hurt, but I just...I don't know...I feel..."

      "You feel what?"

      _I just feel like there's nothing you wouldn't do to solve this case, Charles...and that terrifies me. Seriously. It **terrifies** me, man. The lengths you're willing to go for this case? For this....assassin? I mean...I admire it but I'd be lying to you if I didn't admit that it....scares me too. Bombs...? Somebody moving metal around? _

      “You sound like Erik,”

  _Even your **boyfriend’s** saying you should stop? Yeah, I don't think that's a good sign._

      “I need to see this through. Erik understands that…or he will,” Charles shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant, even though traveling down _this_ train of thought terrified _him_. “…eventually.”

  _Don’t let that become an ultimatum._

       “It won’t,” said Charles. “Come on. I want to prepare for tonight. We can head home to change first.”

       The plan was pretty straightforward, much to Alex’s annoyance, who thought they needed at least four backup plans in case things went south. In Charles’s opinion, he was overestimating their foe…who wasn’t meant to be a foe to begin with as long as they played their cards right.

      Charles just wanted them to dress in civilian clothing, head to the casino and request Security jackets with their FBI clearance. Once that was done, it would be easy to request an audience with Remy. Charles had a feeling that the direct approach, with their badges drawn might have the thief running.

       He had Alex drive him home a little early, around four. He hobbled into the elevator up to his floor, pausing at Erik’s closed door, wondering if he should knock.

       No, he had imposed enough…and their last conversation, albeit close and intense, was still weighing on his mind. He wasn’t ready to have the talk Erik wanted simply because he was short on time…and more than likely Erik would be upset that he was going out at all.

       He dressed as casually as he could, slipping on a collared red and blue striped shirt and jeans. This looked good right? Yes…definitely looked like he wasn’t a cop. Especially with the bulging leg. Charles just stared at it, annoyed at how the fabric seemed stretched to its limit over the material.

      Charles slipped back outside, and found temptation was hard with Erik’s door just facing him like this. He limped a few steps before knocking a few times, but the slight pressure of his knuckles pushed the door open.

      He stepped inside cautiously looking around. All the lights were off except one, the room beside Erik’s that had usually been kept closed.

       The detective knew he was intruding…that he maybe should have turned back, but who knew what tonight could bring? Who knew what kind of man LeBeau turned out to be?

        He shook his head and knocked on the door, but once again, the door just swung open. It was almost completely empty save for a huge black mat taking up the floor, a punching bag in the corner, and a target on the far wall by the window for darts.

      Charles was left with a spectacular view of Erik from behind as the man was doing pullups from a steel bar built into the ceiling. He was wearing nothing but black and white shorts and a blank tank top.

      Beneath the fabric, Charles couldn't help but run his eyes over the scars that were visible on part of his chest and his arms. No...not self-inflicted. Attacked...over and over. He was torn between wanting to run his hands over them in silence and keeping his distance —— **demanding** where each one came from and who inflicted them.

      The detective stopped, despite his rush to leave, despite his earlier theories lingering on the edge of his mind that Erik was involved with someone else. Instead, he leaned against the doorway as Erik counted to himself in low murmurs. After a few more, maybe ten, he let himself hop down, retrieving a discarded towel from the floor in front of him.

     “Are you enjoying the view, Charles?”

     Charles nearly lost balance. “Uhm…what? How did you know it was me?”

       Erik turned just slightly to look at him, eyes glancing down to Charles’s chest before resting back on his face. “Nice shirt.”

      Charles looked down too, his cheeks burning. “…Oh…Right…Kind of goes with your loft scheme.”

      “Is that what you were going for?”

       But Charles wasn’t really listening as he stepped further inside and let his back hit the wall. He was watching Erik take a large sip of water before pouring the rest over himself. The man turned around and began his approach and Charles felt his heartbeat start to pick up.

       He tracked the movement of several droplets releasing from Erik’s hair, down his cheeks, his slicked neck, disappearing into his tanktop.

      Unconsciously, Charles licked his lips.

     “…I’m sorry…what was your question?”

     Erik smiled before closing the distance between them and cupped Charles’s cheek, pulling him close for a kiss. The detective almost felt himself fall into the other man on impulse, unrepentant relief making him feel weak. He could admit to himself that their last conversation had left him wondering where exactly where they were now standing. He half expected an empty and close off loft upon returning him.

Charles closed his eyes on instinct, releasing his crutch and letting it fall so he could take Erik’s face, fingers gliding up his arms, over his neck and up easily into his damp locks where he tugged lightly.

       “No…but really…what’s with the outfit?” Erik asked, pulling away and approaching a folded towel in the middle of the floor to pat himself dry.

      _Shame_.

       Charles hesitated for a long moment. “…I’m going undercover for a case tonight.”

      A beat, maybe two or three passed. Charles watched Erik’s shoulders tense.

      “I’m sorry,” said Charles quickly. “I know you don’t approve.”

      A bitter laugh escaped Erik’s lips. “It’s fine.”

      “You’re upset.”

      “I’m not.”

      “You are.”

       Erik wrapped the towel around his neck. “You’re the mind reader.”

      “That’s not fair,” Charles’s eyebrows came together. “You know I can’t read you.”

      “Yeah…,” Erik tore his gaze away. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

      “This is the last time,” said Charles with conviction. “I promise.”

      “Huh. I feel like I’m going to be hearing that one a lot,” Erik commented. 

      “You’re not. This _is_ the last time.” 

      Erik stared him down. The detective could see a vein pulsing on his forehead and slight tremor rocked his body. If he could walk…he’d have grabbed him by now, shown him that he meant it, but Charles couldn’t. His leg actually felt overworked today…and suddenly heading to the casino with a cast leg seemed like a terrible idea. LeBeau was obviously a cunning man, but who knew how he would react to them? Charles was in no place to defend himself from an attack and he didn't want to wholly rely on Alex for protection either.

      But he had to do this. _He had to._

       Luckily Erik did the job for him, closing the short distance between, palms flattening on either side of Charles's head, caging him in. He was reminded of their morning encounter and his heartbeat picked up even further just from the brief flash his mind produced of it.

      Erik leaned in, bypassing Charles’s lips completely, finding a spot on his neck where Charles felt the cold and wet brush of Erik's lips on his neck.  The hair on the back of his head stood on end in response, making him shiver involuntarily and hover close when he felt the other man's heated breath saturate his skin. He made no move further, tensed like he was...standing by.

     His voice was soft, a whisper. “…Is it for the case you’ve been working on?” 

    Charles’s answer may have come too quick as he swallowed. “No.” 

    “Hmm,” Erik mused, brushing his lips over the reddening area.    “…Are you sure?” 

     Too quick again. “Yes.” 

     Erik drew back to take in Charles’s expression, his eyes flickering between them.

     When Erik started to push off the wall, Charles caught his arms to stop him, hands sliding up to capture Erik’s shoulders and hold the other man in place with as much strength as he could muster. He looked between his eyes, expelling a short breath as if to calm himself. He could hear his hear beating so fast in his chest. Loud, loud, loud....it almost seemed like Erik could hear it too. 

    “I want to go to Italy with you,” 

    Truthfully, he didn’t know what made him say out right and at this moment. Erik had been waiting for an answer for long enough and he hadn’t given him anything in return, just a promise to consider it.

      “I want to go to Italy with you,” He repeated, watching for minute changes in Erik’s face. He wanted a sign...wanted to see the smile that made him all warm inside. Erik's chest expanded with a deep breath, his intense expression remaining unchanged...as if he wasn't daring himself to hope.

     “You mean it?” Erik whispered. 

     “I do…,” Charles’s thumb brushed over heated skin, touching over the corner of Erik’s lips, watching them part under his touch. “…I want to go with you.” 

     Charles went on. “You’ve done…so much for me. You’ve accepted my…gift…my weird, stupid habits…and I know what you’re wanting of me…is only because you’re concerned, because you care. And I don’t say it enough…how **thankful** I am for that. For you...being there for me. For...caring for me in that way. You never asked for a thing in return...Nothing but this... The very _least_ I can do is go with you.” 

     Erik frowned. “…I never asked you to go because I feel you’re obligated.” 

     “I know,” Charles answered quickly. “ I _want_ to go with you, Erik…Spend time with you…because I…” 

       Charles swallowed, feeling his heart skyrocket in his chest. Could he hear that too? His cheeks burned and he wanted to tell Erik to just forget it, just leave his sentence hanging. 

      “…because I think I love you.” 

    Even though Charles wasn’t completely flush to Erik’s body, he could _feel_ the man tense, his fingers curling like he was trying to control… _something._ He felt like he had stopped moving altogether, only feeling one sharp intake of breath. 

      “I’m not saying that because I feel obligated either,” Charles clarified quietly. “I’m saying that because since I met you…all I’ve felt is this **connection**. I can’t explain it. I’ve never felt anything like this before. When you’re with me…all I feel is you. Like you’re.... **consuming** every part of me.” 

      Erik moved, finally, stepping away from the wall to turn his back to Charles, his hand over his mouth.  He was hiding again...and Charles willed himself to push down the stirring feelings of rejection starting to simmer deep inside.

     “…I know you feel like all I think about is the case, and what my next move is. But when I’m not thinking of that? When I’m by myself, Erik?” 

      Charles pushed off the wall too, extending a hand towards Erik and pressing his palm lightly over the small of his back. 

      “I’m thinking of you. When I’m next going to see you, what I’m going to say, what _you’re_ going to say. I can’t read you…and to be quite honest with you, it’s more of a **relief** than anything else. Maybe a little frustrating because I want to cheat like I always do, ” Charles lightly chuckled. “ but it’s a mystery, you see? I get to be surprised by your words, your actions…and I want to _keep_ sharing that mystery with you.” 

      Silence continued to follow his words and he was just left gazing at Erik’s still profile. And that was when Charles did cheat, brushing through Erik’s mind and finding the usual resistance he always did.

   But then his emotions assaulted him within _seconds_ that Charles couldn’t help but wince as the tidal wave crashed the shore wiped out everything in its path. Charles took a deep breath, the air feeling like it was noxious fumes, stabbing through his chest.

    His hand pulled away as though he had been burned. 

    A single thought kept filtering through on repeat. 

 _I don’t want to hurt you._

    It felt like the words were scrawled on the walls in blood over and over again. 

    Whatever reaction he was expecting from Erik, it wasn't this.

     Charles felt like whatever control he had, whatever support he had in this room was starting to crumble. If he closed his eyes, if he blinked, everything would darken. This room loft, this apartment. All he would see was the light begin to fade.

      **Change.**

    Leaving nothing but ——  _black, black black._

     His hand flew over his heart where he felt like a hole had been ripped through. He took a shaky breath to try to quell the wrathful storm that raged within the man who stood before him. Tears burned his eyes and he was quick to sweep them away from his cheeks. 

     “Oh, God. Erik…Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what this is,” Charles pleaded with him, his voice breaking. “… _Please tell me._ Is it someone else? Are you with someone else? This… **guilt** I keep... feeling from you.  Does it come from that?” 

      Each blink terrified him because he feared he would be blinded each time his eyes closed.

     Charles’s hand was suddenly hard on Erik’s wrist, trying to force him around. “Please. _Say something_. Is there someone else?” 

      Erik conceded to the touch, expression so intense that Charles felt staggered by it. His palm was light as it found Charles's cheek, and he couldn't help but relax into it. 

     “You’re the only one I see.” Erik whispered, pressing their lips together once more. 

    Charles lost himself to the kiss, pressing himself hard against the other man until he was teetering off his feet. He willed himself to stand firm even as his knees felt weak, ready to collapse.

   Their lips pulled away, and the next breath Charles took between them gave him the strength he needed. He could see the same look in Erik's eyes, the same _desperation_ to be strong, to hold himself together. His own thoughts pushed out like the whisper on wings and he hoped the other man could hear it.

      _Let me be your anchor._

     The detective pulled away first, both of them breathing hard. Erik pressed his forehead against his, his eyes closed as he took Charles's weight easily, just holding him.

     “I’m not asking you to say it back,” said Charles breathlessly. “…I’m not asking you to say it **ever.** I just felt…it was important for you to know. If something were to happen to me...I think one of my biggest regrets would be leaving before I told you.” 

     “Nothing is going to happen to you,” Erik responded reflexively, his arms tightening around him. 

     “I know,” Charles gave him a watery smile.

     Erik sniffed and cupped the back of Charles's neck, pulling back slightly so they could look at eachother. Erik's tormented expression tore at Charles's heart.

     "Erik..."

   Erik's voice was low, his eyes glistening. “I want you to understand something. Every person I’ve ever cared for…has _left_ me in some way or another. It’s been that way my entire life…When I don’t say it back…I’m not doing it to hurt you. That's the last thing I want to do...You have to believe me.” 

     “I know, Erik.. “…I know. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be told. It’s **not** an endless cycle, Erik. There’s so much more to you than you know. Not just pain…and anger.” 

     Erik's eyes shifted downward, but not before Charles saw the defeat overtake his features…because he knew the other man wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – believe him. 

     Charles’s fingers curled into his tank, fingers brushing over another scar that made Erik’s pain all the more tangible.

     His phone vibrated from his pocket...and reality settled in. Alex was downstairs. Alex was waiting. The case. The assassin. All of that came back...and he had no choice but to say his next words. 

   “I have to go,” said Charles. As soon as they left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. He felt Erik's shoulders slump. He steadied him, taking him by the neck with both hands, fingertips brushing. “…I want to talk some more. It doesn’t have to be about this…we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

   Erik scowled at him. “…Charles.”

   Charles placed his finger on his lip, silencing him and reminding him. "I just want to see you smile, Erik. You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen."

   Erik's lips pressed together, refusing that wish instantly. He wouldn't...and it wouldn't be what Charles wanted anyway. The smile of Erik's joy was what he wanted....and he couldn't get it now. 

   “You could never hurt me," Charles's thumbs brushed his jawline, defiantly refuting Erik's earlier thought. "I know you couldn't."

    He tried to probe for an emotional response to that, but no...nothing. Erik didn't believe that either.

    "....I'm sorry," said Erik tightly.

   Reluctantly, Charles let him go, stepping back with a final, faint smile to Erik before he turned around and started heading back the way he came, reaching for his crutch. Before he could even attempt to grab it, Erik scooped it up by his side and took Charles's hand, guiding him to hold onto his arm for support instead.

   “At least let me walk you down.”

   Charles couldn't help the smile that finally spread, couldn't help but lean upwards to kiss Erik's cheek.

     "I'd like that."

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers. Thanks for reading this chapter. There will be an assassin encounter upcoming. As in Erik/Charles with Erik in his mask/uniform coming up. I feel we've not had enough of those so far, so I want to make it up to you.
> 
> One thing I feel I need to explain is that Charles cannot read Erik, nor can he read the person he believes is the assassin. Though he feels 'something' from Erik, as in his emotions, he's not able to read Erik directly as he would another person because Erik picks and chooses what he wants to share with Charles and is able to do that, which coincidentally...is /mostly/ nothing.
> 
> When Erik is in his mask, he pretty much dons a different type of mindset altogether, so while the same  
> 'base' mind is there, it would feel different to Charles, because here Erik is trying much harder to keep his mind guarded. I just wanted to clarify that for anyone who might be confused.
> 
> TL:DR Erik keeps his emotions unguarded around Charles without his mask, and with it on( as Magneto ), he's on full alert and able to cut Charles off almost entirely.


	23. The Casino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap it's been a while! So sorry again for the delay. I know I keep apologizing...and if you're reading this in a future date when the fic is completed, these little notes don't matter...but!!! Those of you that are here now reading while it's still in progress, thank you so much for your patience. I had a lot of rewriting to do with this chapter...and I promise the next one will come quicker now that I know what I'm doing. I actually wanted to release them both simultaneously, but the next ones still being worked on. This chapter is a little longer than I expected it to be as well. :)

 Before leaving Erik, the man had insisted he put on something else, citing that he looked more like a member of a golfing country club and stood out just as much.

  Luckily Erik was a few sizes bigger than him, so putting on his black t-shirt, his black jeans and leather jacket felt loose but very comfortable on him. His cast wasn’t painfully stretched in these jeans, though Charles couldn’t stop it from standing out.

  It also wasn’t so bad that the garments smelled strongly of Erik’s cologne.  He slipped them on in the bathroom, muttering thanks under his breath before the other retook his arm to escort him down.

  Alex watched as Charles finally came down from his loft. He was about to beep his horn at him when he saw Erik lead the other man out. Obviously the man had just been working out, the street lights showing the glisten on his skin.

  He watched them silently. Charles’s back was to him, and he could only see Erik. Affection was coming off in waves as he stood face to face with Charles, taking his face and pressing their lips together.

  Alex couldn’t help the smile that spread across his mouth.  _Good._ If there was anyone in the world who deserved this happiness right now, it was Charles.

  He tracked their movement as they approached, his passenger side door opening as Erik helped Charles get settled in, opening the back door to slide the crutch in.

  “Thank you,” Charles whispered, tugging on Erik’s shirt so he could pull the other man down and give him another kiss.

   “Hi Alex,” Erik smiled against Charles’s lips.

   “Hi Erik,” Alex gave a small wave. “…Good to see you. How have you been?”

   “Just fine,” Erik stood upright. “You bring him home safely, okay?”

   “Will do,” Alex answered, giving him a thumbs up.

  Erik rolled his eyes and stepped back as Charles closed the door. His hand immediately went to the window, palm flat as the car fired up and they were leaving him behind.

  Alex couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he looked at Charles’s expression.

   _You are so smitten._

 “Shut up,” Charles countered.

     _You are. And he is too. I’m happy for you. All you’ve been thinking about is this case…and now you have something…beyond that, if that makes sense._

 Charles didn’t want to tell him that he had just confessed his love to Erik with almost no reciprocation. He’d say almost because what he felt from Erik may not have been what he attributed to as love, but it was something…which was better than nothing.

  “Thanks,” was all Charles said.

   “You ready for this? I mean…are you up for it?” Alex glanced down at his cast leg.

  “I’m up for it,” said Charles stiffly. Though absently, his fingers rubbed over his forehead, a headache beginning to form.

   “Though I wish I brought my medication,”

   “You’d be passed out and drooling,” said Alex.

    “But I wouldn’t have this…,” Charles had had migraines before…and Alex had been on the receiving end of a cold shoulder more than a few times. Sometimes the telepathy got too much, voices overlapping eachother inside causing a deep throbbing in his temples. Lately, the only relief he got was from the pain medication the hospital prescribed for his leg. At least it knocked him out.

   “It seems like it’s gotten worse since the accident,”

    “You wanna call this off?”

    “No.” Charles’s voice brokered no room for argument. “We may never get a chance like this.”

 “Well… you kinda stand out. If you want me to talk to LeBeau alone…,” Alex suggested quietly.

  “I know I stand out. Thank you for pointing that out,” Charles snapped irritably, trying to knead the pain in his temples to the middle of his forehead. “But I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

  “Fine,” Alex conceded, speeding up.

  Traffic was light, but the closer Alex got to the highway, the more it seemed to congest. Casinos were always hot at night…and Charles couldn’t help but think that this was going to be the one night that LeBeau decided to stay in. What were they going to do if that was the case?

  As Alex stopped for the third time, this time behind a truck, Charles leaned back in his seat and sighed.

  “After this is all over…,” Charles started conversationally. “…I’m going to Italy with him…With Erik.”

  Alex looked him over. “Italy, really. That’s…expensive. For how long?”

  “He said about two weeks,” said Charles.

   Alex’s forehead creased in some suspicion. “What does he do for a living?”

  “He said he was some kind of exterminator,” Charles told him.

   Alex’s frown deepened…and Charles was able to follow his train of thought to the gold watch that Charles was given at his party and now the trip. He was mulling over the price given the brand of the watch and then what a round trip to Italy would be.

  “Stop doing that…It’s not my business how he got his money. Maybe he was left a hefty inheritance,” said Charles.

  Alex also thought about that. “…Does he talk much about his family?”

  “No…and I haven’t really asked,” He probably should have, but their conversations upon reflection had Charles thinking he was…somewhat self-absorbed, talking or stressing about work. He had wanted to talk to Erik, not just in the beginning but even afterwards in their time off after the hospital, but the man was…dodgy when it came to talking about himself.

  He still couldn’t pinpoint where the guilt came from. Even after tonight.

   “You know what you should do,” Alex said, raising his eyebrow.

    “What.”

   Alex pointedly looked at the screen in between their seats.

     _Look him up._   

 “Why would I do that?” Charles asked impatiently. “That’s a complete invasion of privacy.”   

    _Remember when you were dating Moira…and she had a intelligence agent tail you for like three weeks? Yeah…you should be used to invading peoples’ privacy, you work for the government._   

“I’m not looking him up,” said Charles more sternly. “This is a part of my life where I don’t have to be an FBI agent. I want to keep it that way.”

  Alex mulled that over as well. And Charles was glad to find that his partner feeling a little guilty.

  “Sorry,” He muttered.

  “It’s fine,” said Charles shortly. “Let’s just focus on the task at hand.”

   The casino was packed as Charles expected.  Alex struggled for a few minutes finding them a parking spot. They had no choice but to park as far as possible from the actual casino entrance.

   As Charles climbed out, he didn’t bother going to the back for his crutch and instead struggled for a moment to pull at the hard material of the cast His leg was skinnier than what the cast was built for and didn’t wrap around his foot like most people had them. It was with ease that he was able to slide it off, basking for a moment in the breeze that hit him.

   Alex was adjusting his tie in the side view mirror, pushing his hair off to slick back. It was the quickest improv undercover he ever did, but unlike Charles he hadn’t opted out of wearing the suit he wore to work. Deciding he looked different enough than usual, he made his way over to Charles’s side, coming to screeching halt when he saw what Charles had done.

   “Are you kidding me? What the ** _hell_**  are you doing?” Alex snapped. 

   “I’m self-conscious about this, all right? I don’t expect Lebeau to take anything about me seriously if I’m being  **dragged** by this…ridiculous cast.”

   “Charles, taking off your cast prematurely is like a guaranteed way to make it worse…or rebreak if it’s already on the mend,” said Alex vehemently.

   But Charles wasn’t listening to him, he was already slipping his pants over his bare leg.

  “I’ll keep weight off it,”

  “You can’t be serious. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

   “I’m not.”

   “I can’t take you in like this.”

   Charles ignored him. “Let’s go.”

   “Fuck. You know your **boyfriend** is going to kill me. And for some reason? I get the feeling that he would succeed.”

   Charles waved a dismissive hand as he worked to stand up from the seat, taking a firm grip of the ajar door so he could stay balanced. He was keeping weight off it, letting his foot hover off the pavement.

   “See? I can walk just fine.” To prove it, Charles took a step forward, keeping the other foot still off the ground.

   Alex wouldn’t have called **that** a step though. He’d call it a skip.

   “It’s not a  _skip_ ,” Charles answered his inner thought, stung.

   “You look like you’re trying to show to me how you play jump rope,”

   “Shut up. You’re wasting time.”

  Alex was still shaking his head, grumbling disapprovingly as he watched Charles . The man was still lagging behind of course, just barely stepping on his injured leg as he walked --- or rather ---  _hopped_  towards the entrance.

   Reluctantly, Alex offered his shoulder, especially when he saw the strain in his face. Charles gladly took it, applying more pressure than ever whenever he took a step.

   The casino was packed. The smell of stale cigarette and beer hit them like a slap in the face. Charles was on the receiving end for thoughts spanning from desperation to straight up depression from the losers down on their luck, walking past them with empty pockets.

  Yes, there was excitement, and ecstatic thoughts for the winners, but there was more of the latter than this. Of course. The casino had to remain operational, so they would always collect what they lost to the winners…some way. An endless cycle feeding off the greed of the middle and lower class.

   He tried to shake off their thoughts and the onslaught of emotions as best as he could, tried to focus on the one mind he was looking for but that proved impossible. It was only easy for Charles to do this if he was familiar with the person, and having never been in Lebeau’s presence before, he had no idea what to look for in the man.

   “Let’s split up,” Charles suggested. “Ask around.”

    Alex glanced down at Charles’s leg which was already trembling, despite how his partner made it look by having it lifted off the ground. “…Are you sure about that?”

   “I’m  _positive_ ,” said Charles tersely.

   “I think you should stick close to me.”

   “We’ll cover more ground if we split up.”

     Alex shook his head but he couldn’t argue with Charles, not really. As the older, more experienced agent, Charles’s orders took precedent, whether Alex liked it or not.

   But he still dug into his jacket and passed Charles a clear spiraled wire to hook around his ear.

   “Keep contact,” Alex answered vaguely, walking from Charles and disappearing into the crowd.

  Charles hooked his own up, pressing a button at the top to activate it. He could distantly hear Alex shuffling through the crowd as he moved to do the same. He made his way (slowly) towards the high stakes room, figuring LeBeau wouldn’t bother with penny slot machines for riches. With the amount of theft charges, he had to be one of the desperate souls here. Money seemed to be his only desire.

  But there was no sign of him…granted Charles was looking for someone who looked vaguely like the one he saw in Alvarez’s memory. The boy with dark brown hair and amber colored eyes.

   So he settled in the table that was the making the most noise with an older dark-skinned gentleman was rolling the dice and cheering when his numbers hit...which seemed to happen with every roll.

   “Excuse me,” said Charles politely, tapping the man lightly on the shoulder. “I’m looking for a person by the name of Remy LeBeau. Is he here?”

   “LeBeau? That scoundrel wouldn’t dare show his face to this room while  _I’m_  here,” The man replied with a furtive look towards the dealer. “He knows he’ll lose.”

    “Is he here tonight?” Charles pressed him.

    “Hell if I know,” He shrugged.

    Charles brushed the man’s mind to see if he had seen LeBeau anywhere here tonight…but he found nothing but truth. Not tonight.

   Still, he did get _something_  from him. He now had a glimpse of LeBeau’s appearance now when Charles had said his name. Older by a number of years, sporting a purple satin suit with a cane and rounded hat. His eyes were as bright as ever. So it wasn’t a phase with questionable contact lenses.

   Walking away, Charles spoke in a low voice to Alex. “I got a look at someone’s memory. I know what LeBeau looks like. You have to keep an eye out for someone with a very distinct eye color. Kind of orange-red.”

   “ _Orange red_. Of course his eyes are fucking orange-red. I swear if I have to start using my badge to get people to take their glasses off, I’m leaving this mission,” Alex answered shortly, contorting his face into a smile as he approached a large set security guard standing near the ATMs at another entrance.

   “I’m looking for an individual named Remy LeBeau. You heard of him?”

   The guard leered down at him. “Who’s asking?”

    “I am,” Alex answered, unphased as he took out his badge and flashed it for verification. “I need to ask him some questions. Where is he?”

   The guard regarded Alex with a disgusted look. “…Upstairs. Take the elevator behind me. He’s in the VIP section.”

   “Thank you,” Alex responded, shifting around him. “You hear that, Charles?”

   “I heard. Let’s go,” said Charles, heading towards a different set of elevators. He winced as he stepped inside, the metal feeling confining. He wondered if this was how Erik felt whenever he stepped foot in one of these things.

   Alex met him on the second floor at the middle of the long corridor. It looked very different from the bottom floor which was full of slot machines in rows and against the wall. This was a long hallway, with a few slot machines here or there. But mostly this was long walkway with large square windows showing what was going on. Each room as they passed was the same with several poker and blackjack tables and lounge seats against the wall.

   Charles looked above towards the vents, seeing a narrow catwalk for maintenance.

   “Looks like security has increased over the last few days,” Charles muttered, reading the thoughts of the ones patrolling this floor. None of this was helping the growing pain in his head. It was easier when he was actively trying to tune everyone out, and now when he actually _wanted_ to use his gift to his advantage, it was proving difficult.

    There was at least two guards on either side of every door and three patrolling the hall, all wearing full black body armor and helmets, carrying rifles similar to those used with SWAT teams. Despite their not being a SWAT insignia on anyone’s uniform, Charles could see that some actually  _were_ former SWAT, just hired in with thoughts of the extra cash made tonight.

  Someone was paying them handsomely. The rifleman closest to them was already making future plans and investment opportunities.

    _Any reason why?_  

 “Not sure…It looks like it’s for LeBeau….” 

  Charles trailed off, trying to shift his focus from the intimidating slew of temporary ‘staff’ to the actual players on this floor. Many didn’t know or see Remy personally, but there was an edge to almost every thought in here. The regulars didn’t appreciate the heavy protection pacing right outside their windows, occasionally looking in.

   “I literally have no idea how to stop myself from making arrests,” said Alex out loud. “I feel like I’m in a Call of Duty game or around a counter intelligence unit.”

   “Just stay calm. We’re just going to talk to him. That’s all we’re here to do,” said Charles, though he could barely keep his own uneasiness at bay. For his own peace of mind, he hoped the bullets inside were to stun, not kill.

  The armored guard ahead of them paused mid stride, speaking into a microphone hovering a few inches away from his lips. 

   “All clear,”

   Charles caught a glimpse of whom the guard was thinking of as he iterated his update. The boss’s name flashed before Charles’s eyes and he felt himself go a little tense, gripping Alex tighter.

    _What? What’s up?_

   “LeBeau isn’t a mere customer here,” said Charles in a grim voice. “He’s the owner.”

    _Shit. What are we going to do?_

 “Nothing. We’re proceeding as normal.” 

   Charles paused, stopping Alex as well. He closed his eyes and tried to hone in again, trying to see through the eyes of every individual on this floor and pinpoint exactly where LeBeau was now. 

   “Found him,” Charles announced.  He took Alex to the very end of the hall, steering him to a shorter stretch towards a door that stood out over anyone else’s. A door with three red and gold 7’s in a circle. Beside the doorway there was yet another armored man with a rifle. His eyes shifted towards the two of them suspiciously as they drew nearer. 

   “You’re getting way too close, boys. Why don’t you turn back around and rethink your decisions?”

   “I think we’re good,” said Alex lightly.

    “I said  _back up_ ,” The rifleman stomped a step towards them.

     “FBI,” said Charles before the other could even think of pointing his gun at their faces. “Why don’t  _you_  step back? Take a break.”

   “Ugh..,” A noise of disgust left the guard as he eased off. “Whatever. Just make it quick.”

    _I swear **nothing**  is worth playing doorman all fucking day._

 He left them, his thoughts still tinged with complaints all the way. Charles waited until he was completely gone, his thoughts growing dimmer and dimmer before his own tension left him.

   Alex raised his knuckles and knocked first, leaning against the doorway as they waited for a response from the inside. There was the sound of raucous laughter, a punchline of a joke probably coming from the lips of Remy himself. 

    _How are we handling this?_  

 “Just keep him talking for about ten minutes. That’s all I need,” Charles whispered.  “I think…anyway.” 

     _What do you mean, you think?_  

   “I’m honestly not sure…I can still read surface thoughts…but delving in deeper may take longer…given the…reactionary _pain_ I’m receiving lately.” 

   _Christ._  

“Try flirting. Never fails with  _you_ to make uncomfortable silences.” 

   _HEY._

  The door cracked open, a woman with short blonde hair in a black pantsuit and sunglasses stood level with them. She had no shame in brandishing a handgun in one hand, the other gripping her wrist as she stood in a way of attention.

   “Can I help you?”

   “We’re here to speak to Remy LeBeau,” Alex replied. “Is he here?”

   The woman didn’t reply. Instead there was a voice coming from deeper inside with an unmistakable Cajun accent.

   “Let em’ in, Hicks. I was just cleanin’ house.”

  She stepped aside and both of them were engulfed in acrid cigar smoke. Charles fanned it away as best as he could as the two of them stood to the side. Discreetly, Charles’s hand wrapped around Alex’s elbow to keep himself supported.

   Sure enough there was a large round table with LeBeau at the center. Several older gentlemen were sitting around him, their cards either still held in front of them or folded on the table.

   And between them, there were several stacks of cash wrapped in rubber bands. No doubt there was thousands in each wad.

   “Here we go,” said LeBeau, laying down his cards. “Read em’ and weep, boys.”

   He was generous in pulling the entire pool towards himself while his remaining opponents slammed their cards down in rage and frustration. This wasn’t the first time LeBeau had done this, and that was obvious.

   As the rest of them left, Charles was able to take stock of the room. It was a little more lavish than the others they had passed here with red and gold hues decorating the couch and the carpet. The wallpaper was an intricate gold design, curling at the corners. There was also a desk and chairs in the far back corner.

   LeBeau was occupied with counting through one of the stacks, silently whispering to himself.  Up close, Charles noted, the striking amber hue of his eyes was even more prominent.

   Charles heard the number in his head before he set the money down. He had just won a quarter million.

   When LeBeau was done, he still didn’t look at the two of them, standing up with the money and heading towards the desk where he carefully placed his winnings into one of the drawers.

   “So I got to wonderin’…what brings two federal agents to my casino?”

   “A murder investigation,” said Alex shortly. “Maybe you heard what happened in Hells Kitchen?”

   “Everybody heard what happened in Hells Kitchen,” LeBeau answered coolly, gesturing at the two chairs on the other end so they could sit. They did with Charles discreetly pressing two fingers to his temple so he could concentrate, his leg causing him to wince as he stretched it out in front of himself.

   But of course focus proved almost impossible. He could read LeBeau’s surface thoughts, his emotions ranging from annoyance to suspicion to displeasure at their arrival…but trying to pry deeper in so he could see what connection LeBeau had to the guild was taxing on the detective. Charles’s attempts to push aside his mental barriers so he could see what he needed to see It was not that LeBeau was strong minded, because he wasn’t different from any other mind.

   It was Charles’s own lack of ability.

   “We were told you might know who was behind that,” Alex was saying.

   LeBeau quirked a brow. “I wonder who told you that. I don’t know anythin’ about any murders.”

  “It doesn’t matter where _our_ sources come from,” said Alex dismissively. “Point is, you know something…and dodging around it, isn’t going to save you this time. I hope I don’t have to remind you that deliberately withholding information from an FBI investigation is a crime.”

   LeBeau just looked at him, tracing his lower lip in thought. He looked undeterred by the threat and they both knew it was because LeBeau had evaded jail time before.

   “What d’ya wanna know, Agent…?”

   “Summers,” said Alex. “this is Agent Xavier. We read into your file. Figured you’d have a good grasp of the underground.”

   “Flattery gets you anywhere these days,” said LeBeau. “But unfortunately, Agent…I don’t know who was behind that mess. Y’know you could’ve just done this over a phone call. No sense in just comin’ all the way down here.”

   “We find face to face confrontations a little better,” said Alex, tilting his head. “Easier to tell if someone is…lying.”

   LeBeau’s smile widened. “My word, Agent Summers. Are you implyin’ something?”

   Alex dodged the question. “Officer Shepard. He was killed a few years back. You were the sole witness to that crime. When you were caught, you mentioned that an organization was behind this.”

   LeBeau’s face didn’t change except for the slight tightening of his eyes. No doubt he didn’t expect for Alex or Charles to look that deep into his file. Most people thought him a common thief.

   “People say whatever comes to mind when they want to get outta some situation,” said LeBeau lightly.

   “So you’re saying you did  _lie_  then.” Alex grimaced. “Very bold lie to make up, that you think it was the work of an assassin. You were working in Shepard’s home at the time, weren’t you?”

   LeBeau nodded. “I was.”

   “What did you see?”

   Charles wondered if the man would try to remember it now. But it was becoming increasingly harder to focus on LeBeau’s mind. Every time he tried to overcome a mental barrier, he was pushed back by an equally strong current. He had no choice but to withdraw.

   “Nothin’,” said LeBeau.

   Alex was silent for a few minutes, his eyes narrowed on LeBeau’s expression which remained dismissive.

   “Mr. LeBeau…The individual behind the murder may be the very same one who was behind the attack on Fisk’s building. You can help us by telling us where the individual or  _individuals_ are.”

   “…Tell us what you know.”

   “Y’know I  _hate_  to be of no help to the FBI,” said LeBeau, though it sounded like he meant the exact opposite, something gleeful shining in his eyes at Alex’s frustration.

   “But I ain’t the one to talk to ‘bout this. I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout any kind of ‘assassins’ or who the hell was behind that attack in Hells Kitchen. I don’t know who out there told you to talk t’me…but they told you wrong.”

   Abruptly, Charles broke his connection entirely from LeBeau’s mind.

   “Tell me, Remy. What can you tell me about that black Monte Carlo parked on your home street for the last three days?”

  LeBeau looked taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

   “You’ve increased security around here by a great deal. You’re anticipating a break in,” Charles clicked his tongue.  “You’re concerned for your safety.”

   The thief was quick to recompose himself, laughing shakily. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. My security force is the same as it’s always been.”

   Charles shook his head, and Alex could have sworn he was about to call him out on the lie, but instead he leaned forward, his eyes piercing as they looked into the thief’s.

   “You saw something the day Officer Shepard was killed. Something that hasn’t left you yet.”

  LeBeau’s jaw ticked, patience wearing thin. And his next thought reflected that.

     _I swear I’m ‘bout to smack the smirk off his smug face._  

    “You’re very… _presumptuous_ , Detective.” 

   Charles smiled. “I rather like to think I’m well informed. I have to be. So you can feign ignorance with Agent Summers, but ignorance won’t help you here. We’re looking for this man, this  **assassin** and any who associate with him **.**  We’re willing to do _whatever it takes_ to find him. So the sooner you stop being part of my problem and start being part of the solution, the better off  _you’ll_ be.”

   The thief fell silent, his mask of pretense starting to slip even further. His face was contorted both in annoyance and even a sliver of fear. Charles could feel the fear in his thoughts, the anxiety and the panic start to build. Theories were forming on the nature of Charles’s information ranging from tracking devices to thinking Charles and Alex were the people inside the Monte Carlo.

   “Tell me why they’re after you. Tell me what the Hellfire Club wants,” Charles prompted him, repeating the words to the man. “We can help you. We can protect you.”

  The mention of the Hellfire Club made LeBeau’s face darken, the burn of his eyes growing intense. He muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘you think so’ before he stood up.

   “I think you need to leave,” LeBeau growled. “Now.”

   “You can’t dismiss—”

   “No, that’s fine,” said Charles over him, a hand over Alex’s arm as he used him to stand up as well. He dug into his jacket pocket and took out a card, holding it out to the thief. “I’m sorry to hear that you don’t know anything, Mr. LeBeau. Call me if you hear anything. That’s my cell number. It’s always on me.”

   LeBeau didn’t say anything, his mouth receding to a thin line. Charles could have sworn the color was draining from his face too. He had said too much, shown that he knew  _too much_  in his findings and now LeBeau had tensed, his mind closing off.

  “Let’s go, Agent Summers,” Charles pulled on Alex’s sleeve to lead the man out.

   When the door closed, Alex led him far from the eyes of the security guards.

     _We scared him. Or well…you scared him._  

“We just reminded him of what he’s supposed to be scared of. He’s anticipating a break in tonight,”  

    _So what’s the plan? We’re staying here?_   

Charles nodded. “We don’t have a choice.” 

  The detective took a quick look around and automatically his eyes went up to the ceiling where he spotted the maintenance catwalk again.

   “We should get up there for a birds eye view. Just so we can see everything,” said Charles.

 _Fine…but if anything happens…I’m the one who’s gonna do the running. I’m serious. I still think you’re insane for taking off your cast._  

“Fine,” Charles ignored the after thought.

  They made their way towards the elevator, ignoring that eyes were probably on them the entire time. With luck, one of the many security cameras was not being monitored by someone right now. Alex waited until the guard patrolling the perimeter to turn his back.  

   “Are you kidding me?”

     _Is that an AK-47?_   

Charles had to ignore the excitement in Alex’s thought.

   “His back is turned. Come on, go up, go up.” Alex urged him, half pushing him towards the stairs leading up to the catwalk and following suit seconds later.

  The detective struggled up the steps, trying to think of anything else to distract himself. It proved impossible. Every step up triggered a sharp pain up his leg. His eyes were watering when he reached the top step and he nearly stumbled to the ground willingly. Anything was better than applying any more pressure to this limb that was meant to support and was now failing dismally.

    All the while, he refused Alex’s help even though he felt his partner hovering behind him. Hands gripped the rails as tight as he could, forcing support so he could keep weight off the leg. How careless was he? Had he really been pushed to this desperation that made him forego his own well-being? It was what Erik argued with him time and time again and now he was starting to see the sense in what he had been trying to preach.

    _So you’re killing me here…What else did you get from his head? That was pretty impressive. I wish I could cause a scene like that._

   Alex’s voice provided a good distraction when they were able to settle in the far end of the catwalk, deeper in the shadows.

“Not much…,” Charles struggled for a second to compose his voice, trying to keep the strain out of it. The last thing he needed was Alex trying to bail out because of him.

   “I couldn’t see the intricate details, but I get the feeling he knows our target,” Charles explained. “When people suppress their memories, it’s harder for me to pull them from their mind. And this thief has a lot of things he doesn’t want to remember.”

 _It still doesn’t explain why they’re after him. Well…stalking him more like._  

“I don’t know either,” Charles admitted. “But you saw his reaction to ‘Hellfire Club.’”

   “I did…but I don’t understand it,” Alex shrugged. “They probably scared him when they killed Shepard.”

   Charles shook his head. “I feel…and I wish I was able to fully confirm, but I feel like there’s more to it.”

   “Well…I guess there’s no sense in dwelling on it now. Guess we’re on stakeout duty,” said Alex, grinning over at Charles. “Just like old times, right?”

   “Seems like a lot of things are like ‘old times’,” Charles answered irritably.

   Silence took them, each in their own thoughts. Charles tuned out Alex’s thoughts of food and how he hadn’t eaten since lunch and where he was planning to go after this mission, no matter how late the hour. Charles was trying to stay focused but it felt like some time ago that he was standing in Erik’s loft, confessing his feelings.

   The way the man looked at him after…how he was trying so hard to convey himself without saying it outright was beautiful in a twisted sort of way. He was confident that Erik felt _something_ back for him, but he couldn’t see what exactly. It seemed invasive to keep trying to push against his mental barriers which seemed stronger than ever. No, he couldn’t do that.

   Despite how much he wanted to. It would be wrong to try to invade his mind, to pry the truth from him.  No, he had to find the resolve to wait for Erik…to wait for him to talk to him on his own time.  Until whatever truth Erik was trying to hide was laid bare, they could really go no further.

   And he hated to think of putting that ultimatum on him…but that’s the direction. Perhaps he should have just focused on the trip that he had agreed to, look forward to that. The case was hopefully coming to a close, and he needed to move on.

   Distracted by his own thoughts, not even bothering to trace the thoughts of the newcomers on the floor, Charles didn’t see it coming.

   He didn’t notice that a waitress in a short black dress and apron stepping off the elevator holding an empty tray. A waitress with high heels that made noise with every step she took. A waitress with hair clipped behind her with two long metal rods, the wave of locks over her forehead pure white.

   And he couldn’t see when she entered LeBeau’s room to collect his empty glasses from the poker table

  LeBeau remained busy, talking on his phone.

    “What do you mean, you lost them? You never saw them leave?”  LeBeau was saying to the calm woman on the other end.

   “No one by that description has left the building,” She answered.

    “Find them,” LeBeau’s words were sharp. “They ain’t hard to keep track of. Notify me when they leave.”

   “Yes, Mister LeBeau,”

   LeBeau hung up, eyes lit with fury as he ran his hand through his hair. A line was paced behind his desk. His gaze shot up, past the new arrival to Hicks by the door.

   “Hicks. Check outside for me,” LeBeau ordered. The guard nodded and slipped out.

   The woman with the white hi-light just looked him over, watching him continue a impatient line of pacing. “…Rough night?”

   LeBeau was in the midst of gripping his hair as tight as he could, giving her a heated glare. “How could ya tell?”

  Though he seemed to think better of his tone, relaxing an inch. “I’ve never seen you before. You new?”

   She smiled at him, setting the tray down on the now empty table.

   “It’s my first day,” She answered.

   He nodded absently. “How are ya likin’ it so far?”

   “It’s tough,” The girl sighed. “…But I like it. Sometimes that isn’t so bad…it makes the day go by faster.”

   “I hear that,” LeBeau’s lips twitched. “That’s a curious…streak of white you have in your hair. I like it.”

   “Thanks.”

   “What’s your name?”

   She seemed to hesitate a beat. “…Anna Marie.”

   “Pretty name,” LeBeau mused. “Come closer. Let me get a look at you.”

   Her smile widened as she approached. LeBeau noted she looked very young.  He would wager a guess at early twenties. But he had strict hiring rules for her position, knowing that the requirement was for twenty-one and older.

   “I think the kitchen can spare you for a few more minutes, don’t you think?” LeBeau asked.

   Anna Marie blushed. “I think so.”

   “It must be hard…working the late shift like this. It’s already past midnight. You a college girl?”

   She nodded. “It works out for me. My previous job was night shift too.”

   “Good,” LeBeau reached over to brush one of the stray white hairs away from her face.  “So what are you doin’ after work?”

   “Oh, you know…probably just going to study,”

   “Study, huh…,” LeBeau absently took her by the wrist that was still covered by her sleeve. “I can tell. You have artists hands. Is that what you’re studyin’? Art?”

   “Something like that,”

    “Nice…Nice…Except you know…,” LeBeau tugged lightly on the fabric, pulling it up her arm, gently turning her arm face up where numbers were written in black ink.

**715693**

   “There’s a pretty _strict_ rule on no tattoos,” LeBeau finished.

   Anna Marie reacted instantly, pulling her arm away, but not before LeBeau lunged and caught her elbow, yanking her close.

   “Your boss is really playin’ the field, ain’t he?” LeBeau hissed venomously.  "Leave and let live...just don't mean anythin' anymore, do it?"

   Anna Marie’s answering smile was scathing as she raised her hand to lightly brush his cheek. “Oh...not for you _,_ Remy. I want the only _valuable_ currency you can offer a person like me.”

   LeBeau’s face paled, thick black veins appearing across his face and neck. His mouth fell open with a sharp intake of breath that seemed to choke him on the pass. He could feel his energy draining from him, legs starting to weaken, threatening to collapse under his weight.

   She leaned in to whisper, lips brushing the shell of an ear. “…Your life.”

   He fell and just at the same second, the door banged open, Alex crossing over the threshold, a handgun brandished high.

   But she didn’t give him room to even think of shooting it, hand behind her, ripping the metal rod from her hair and throwing it in his direction. Her aim was perfect, the rod jamming itself into the barrel before he could pull the trigger.

   Her movements were swift, kicking the desk with surprising strength towards where Alex managed to throw himself out of the room, at the last second, colliding with Charles behind him. She had no delay in darting for the door, leaping over him so she could make her escape.

   Machine gunfire filled the air, but she neatly dodged every bullet shot her way.

   Charles struggled to push Alex off him, the weight against his broken and uncast leg was excruciating, but he ignored it…he had to.  His eyes swiveled towards the retreating figure of Anna Marie, so near the elevators.

   “Stop…,” He sputtered, his voice out of breath. “Stop….”

   But nothing happened. Voices filled with panic and rage filled him and he couldn’t concentrate. The pain in his head was becoming louder and louder, overbearing as he struggled to collect himself…But the pain…the whispers…too much, too much, too much.

    “I SAID STOP!!!” The words left on a scream, bursting from the telepath like a blast of heat.

  And he felt it, felt her mind pulled or rather --- _wrenched_ \--- towards his own.  The command took hold of her and her movements were synced with his command. Her next step froze her in place, unmoving.

  Alex stood up first, untangling himself from Charles so he could help the other up. Charles’s eyes closed in pain, but he tried his best to shrug it off and follow his partner towards the now immobile assassin. Behind them, the guards had stopped as well, though not as she had. They gathered behind them as Alex walked around Anna Marie, eying her panicked expression as her eyes followed his every movement but nothing else of her moved at all.

   “Did you…Did you do this?” Alex asked, eyes flickering to Charles.

    “I don’t…I don’t know,” said Charles in a shaky voice.

    “C’mon,” Alex urged, pulling handcuffs away from his belt. He took her elbow and as soon as contact was made, she unfroze while Alex placed her hands behind her back and linked her wrists together.

   “ _Telepath_ ,” She spat venomously at Charles. “Forgot how irritating one can be.”

   Charles didn’t answer her. He could see the memory of her encounter with LeBeau all too clearly. Her touch. It was her touch that incapacitated him. She was a mutant…just like the other assassin, the one he was looking for….and just like him.

   “We need to get her out of here,” Charles muttered.

    “No, you don’t,” A voice answered before Alex could. And Charles was surprised to see LeBeau up and about, if a little shaken and pale. He was wiping sweat from his forehead, waving a dismissive hand at the gathering of guards around them.

   Anna Marie stiffened against Alex too. She too, apparently thought she had killed LeBeau with her power.

   “I’m sorry?” said Alex, grip tightening on the assassin.

    LeBeau brushed over his knuckles and cracked his neck. “Because she won’t last there.”

   “How do _you_ know?”

   LeBeau’s gaze was cutting as it went to Alex. “Because I know how they operate. You want to minimize casualties, then you need to put her in a place she **can’t** get out until you got the means to take care of it…”

   “…Which right now, you **don’t** ,” He added.

   “And where exactly are _you_ suggesting we put her?” Alex asked.

   But Charles wasn’t following his partner’s questioning trail of thought. He was focusing on LeBeau now. The unwilling mind control he had exhibited seemed to have cleared the fog. There was no pain, no throbbing or migraine that was stopping him. He could see everything.

   His eyes remained trained on LeBeau who looked back at him with equal intensity.

   “We have a lot to talk about,” Charles stated slowly.

   LeBeau nodded. “We do. Follow me.”


	24. The Setup

   LeBeau was quick to take control of the situation, his hand wrapping around Anna Marie’s elbow and yanking the assassin towards himself.

  “Hicks, take her to one of the empty cash rooms,” said LeBeau, passing her off to the other woman who looked a little less than pleased at the prospect. “Y’know what to do.”

  “Uh…Pardon me?” Alex’s hand lingered on Anna Marie for a bit longer than necessary. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  LeBeau was a moment answering, just watching as Hicks towed away the assassin towards the elevator. She didn’t even struggle, just threw them all a cutting look, especially LeBeau. It was the smile that lingered afterwards. She was young by Charles’s standards, yet the bitter twist of her mouth made her look older. In those few fleeting moments, he tried to brush her mind, but there was little time and he couldn’t delve deep enough, getting nothing aside from the scathing thoughts regarding her captors.

  LeBeau turned to them, his smile somewhat strained. “You guys did me a huge favor in helpin’ me.”

  “You can’t just walk away with our suspect. We need to take her down to the station. Right, Charles?”  Alex prompted him, looking at Charles imploringly.

 But Charles was just looking at LeBeau with a concentrated gaze.

  “…Charles?” Alex pressed.

   “He’s right. Keeping her here….I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” Charles said quietly after a long moment. He was unconsciously holding his side. When Alex had rammed into him, he was lucky not to have rebroken his leg per his partners’ prediction…but it felt like he may have bruised a rib during the collision.

  “You’re not in any position to be talkin’ to her…Trust me…Especially you,” said LeBeau, giving Charles a hard look, eying his injured side and then the leg below. “You’re lucky to be alive after that little scuffle, Agent. Looks like you’re barely holdin’ it together.”

 “I’ll be fine. But you’re not keeping her in one of your rooms. We need to take her with us,” Charles answered.

  “Unfortunately,  _that’s_ out of the question,” LeBeau repeated him. “Situation has changed, gentlemen.”

  “How?” Alex snapped.

  “Let’s finish this in my office,” LeBeau suggested, turning towards the room that they had just vacated.

   “No,” Alex came forward, taking LeBeau by the elbow. The thief glanced down where they were making contact, his gaze hard. “…I don’t think you understand the situation, LeBeau.”

   “I’m not unwilling to compromise. Let’s go to my office,” LeBeau said again, his tone a little more clipped.

  Charles struggled a bit, grasping Alex’s shoulder hard with one hand and his stomach with the other. His partner didn’t hesitate to hold onto Charles’s arm in turn to keep him steady. Charles had to ignore the worried glances being thrown his way. Some of the guards that had tried to stop Anna Marie were following them, thinking of the assassin they had just got caught. There was little excitement…and more…terror. They weren’t told what to expect with the Hellfire Club…and LeBeau had left them in the dark about the…gifts they possessed. That didn’t mean rumors weren’t abound. The Hellfire Club had a reputation of those gifted with strange powers.

   _Maybe LeBeau was right…You don’t look so good, Charles._  

    “I’ll be fine,” said Charles again, even though he already felt winded after a few steps. He released Alex and stepped towards the wall, taking a hold of the corner of one of the dormant slot machines to brace himself. 

   Well, that was certainly contradictory.

   _I don’t think you’re in a position to interrogate someone right now._   

“I’m fine, Alex,” said Charles with a little more bite to his tone. “Why don’t you do me a favor? I’ve actually been needing my crutch. Do you mind heading down to the car to get it?”

   Alex regarded him warily, eyes suspicious. His instinct to stop Charles’s reckless nature won out, however.

   “About time you came around,” said Alex. He stopped in his tracks to  peer over his shoulder at the other elevator that Hicks had just went through.

   “I’ll be right back,” Alex stated in his own, forceful way. “…Seriously. Right back. Don’t talk too much to LeBeau without me. I don’t trust him…and if he pulls anything…I mean my earpiece got damaged when that  _girl_ threw furniture at me.”

    “I’ll be fine,” said Charles, sighing as he had to iterate it yet  _again_.

   “You better be,” Alex answered. He turned away from him, his thoughts reflecting the worry he had vocalized. Charles smiled a bit at his retreating form.

   He really didn’t appreciate Alex enough. His partner was really only trying to look out for him the best he could. He knew he didn’t approve of what they were doing…but he went along with it because it was preferable to working through the alternative…a desk job with petty charges. Here, he felt like he might make a difference, no matter how many times they were pushed back.

   And it was fortuitous that for once…they were as close as they ever could be, with an assassin in the same building as them.

   Charles took his time getting back inside LeBeau’s room, taking stock of the damage that Anna Marie had caused. One of the long metal hair rods she had thrown was laid out near the door. He pushed it aside with his good foot so he could approach the desk. This time, he didn’t sit down, just watching the thief of on the other side who sat much like he did before with his fingers interlocked.

   “It’s fortunate that your partner is away for the moment,” said LeBeau, eyes boring into Charles’s. “We may not get one of these opportunities again.”

   Charles’s tone was uncharacteristically formal. “…Do you take issue with Detective Summers’s presence?”

   “I take issue with any  _human_ trying to understand affairs they know nothin’ about. Namely when dealin’ with beings like us,” LeBeau answered quietly.

   “Beings likes us,” Charles repeated.

    “Yes,” said LeBeau simply.

   “I don’t know what you mean.”

    LeBeau eyed him for a long moment. Charles wondered if he could hear the stutter in his heartbeat that happened every time he tried to lie. The sharp amber of his eyes seemed to redden the longer Charles looked.

   “…I think you do,” LeBeau answered softly. He idly took out a deck of cards and began shuffling through them randomly, attention momentarily averted. “That must have been the first time that you took control of someone’s mind.”

   Charles’s eyes narrowed. “….I don’t know what you-“

   “No one stops someone in their tracks like that. Not with a scream. And that’s what you did. You wanted her to stop, so she did,” LeBeau gestured airly with one hand.

   Charles felt his cheeks heat. _Of course_ LeBeau had seen that. Of course half his guards had seen that. He knew Alex did, knew his partner was curious about it…and he had promised himself that he would try to provide an explanation for it later, because he trusted Alex.

   For LeBeau with motives so unclear, he could hardly say the same.

    “It’s okay, Detective,” LeBeau assured him. “I didn’t need a display of power from you tonight to know what you are. I knew who _you_ were as soon as you walked into my casino tonight.”

   Charles opened his mouth and closed it. He should refute it…call LeBeau crazy or insane…and press him on what he needed to know so that the other would forget it…but the way he was being looked at right now...It felt like he wasn’t in control of the direction of the conversation. Like he had relinquished that control a long time ago. Maybe as far back as LeBeau stated.

   “And how did you figure all that out?” Charles said instead. “Why would you say ‘like us’? What exactly can _you_ do?”

   “Very simplistic in comparison to yourself, Agent. All I can do is manipulate the energy within an object. It started happenin’ when I was a kid. And as for how I knew about… _you…,”_ LeBeau gave him a searching look. “ I would be a very poor master of my profession…if I didn’t take precautions. I know everything there is to know about the terf I’ve entered. That’s unfortunately, more than you can say.”

   “…Terf,” Charles repeated him again. “That’s an interesting word choice. What do you make of the _terf_ you’ve entered?”

   “The same as it always has been,” said LeBeau. “…A warzone. All the people with power fighting to gain more. As a cop, you’d know that more than anyone.”

   “LeBeau,” Charles finally lowered himself to one of LeBeau’s chairs that hadn’t been impacted in the attack. “ I want to ask you some questions. Just the same as before. Do you think maybe you could do me the courtesy of being a little more… **honest** this time?”

   LeBeau seemed to weigh that option for a moment. “…I s’pose you did save my life. I owe you that much.”

   “First tell me what you’re planning on doing with the girl,” said Charles.

   “She tried to kill me tonight, so I’m having her sedated,” LeBeau explained as if it was the most normal practice in the world. “When she wakes up, I’ll let you have your turn at interrogating her.”

   “That’s not how it works, LeBeau,” said Charles sharply. “This isn’t a transfer of jurisdiction. You are a civilian and she is a suspect. We’re taking her in.”

   “Hmm…,” said LeBeau thoughtfully, looking towards the ceiling. “ Somehow that just sounds like a little rule you have to follow. And you can follow it…but I get the feeling you _want_ to have a conversation with her before she gets something complicated involved….Like a _legal representative_. She’s the only lead you have.”

   “I have a mouthy lead sitting right in front of me,” Charles shot back.

   LeBeau grinned at him. “…Not as good as her.”

   Charles looked away from him, annoyed. He had a point. He severely underestimated the thief. He was sharp, perceptive….and it was no wonder that Alvarez had directed him as the person to talk to, but that still didn’t mean that he was an easy person to speak with.

  “I don’t approve of sedation as an interrogation technique,” said Charles.

   “Yeah, you know what? When someone drains your life with just a touch, you can ride that high horse all day. I do what I have to do. And if you think for a one goddamn minute that she’s not gonna get up and try to finish the job, you’re sorely mistaken,” said LeBeau angrily.

  “Tell me how you know them,” Charles pressed him, leaving the Anna Marie situation off the table for now. As long as she was unhurt…

   “We’ve had business before,” said LeBeau. He eyed the disapproving expression on Charles’s face. “You can dial that judgmental look back, Detective. We never hired them to kill anyone. It was more of an agreement. They leave us alone, we leave them alone.”

   “We?”

   LeBeau pressed knuckles into his palm, looking at Charles thoughtfully. “….The Thieves Guild.”

   “Thieves Guild,” Charles repeated. “Of course.”

   “It pays to be honest with a telepath. You can dig the information out at any moment,” LeBeau told him.

   “All right…then what business did you Thieves Guild have with the Hellfire Club aside from this agreement? And why would they send someone after you?”

   “I never said we still had an arrangement still in place. They probably sent Ms. Anna Marie because I’m not supposed to be here,”

   “Why?”

   LeBeau was thoughtful again, gathering his thoughts. Charles refrained from pulling the thoughts and memories directly from him, wanting to give the thief the chance to be honest.

   “They found the guild in New Orleans…years ago. We established the truce then. We stayed out of their way…and they didn’t turn us in to the law. Eventually…our leader…” LeBeau’s mouth twisted a little and a face appeared in his mind of a man who with brown hair, brown eyes, a gaunt face sporting a long black coat. A man holding a bostaff that LeBeau himself possessed now. LeBeau’s thoughts were in faded reverence of the man.

  It was his father.

   “Our leader….established further trade with them,” LeBeau went on. “He figured we had no ways to combat them if they came for us. So he would find individuals…he would have _us_ find individuals. People like us…young ones….and he’d direct the Hellfire Club to them…for recruitment.”

   “Children,” said Charles slowly.

   “Mostly,” said LeBeau. “…if they were children, they weren’t children that were in the system. If they turned up missin’….no one really looked.”

   “That doesn’t justify it,” Charles snarled.

   “Nothing does,” LeBeau nodded.

   “You sound like you didn’t agree with this practice.”

   “It wasn’t a practice _I_ implemented,” LeBeau explained. “Believe me, I would have found a much better form of trade than people. We used our affinity for finding riches and treasure to finding people to get others off our backs. Rather than…tryin’ to bargain somethin’ else….or fighting. That woulda been a whole lot better.”

   “You traded them locations for mutants,” Charles went on, though he couldn’t help the surge of anger he felt for LeBeau’s guild. Children? Who would have no choice? Who would take any opportunity for a better life? The Hellfire Club preyed on these children.

   And suddenly his view of them…of Anna Marie…of the mutant with magnetism that he was trailing seemed to shift a little.

   “I’m guessing that partnership didn’t last long.” Charles told him.

   “No…The Hellfire Club has been around for over a century. I’m sure you knew that. We’re even younger than them…but there was a clan that was older than them that they grew to…conflict with,” said LeBeau almost hesitantly. “The Hand.”

   “The Hand?”

   “It’s another organization,” said LeBeau. “…One very similar to the one you’re after. They run in the same circles. And of course that begins an issue…and sometimes an issue can escalate to something worse.”

   “Like?”

   “Like a war,” LeBeau rose an eyebrow. “Our leader didn’t want to get involved. And we kept that little…neutrality for as long as possible before the inevitable happened. “

   “They made you choose,” said Charles.

    He gave a curt nod. “…Our leader had established a more amicable trade with The Hand. We kept out of their way just the same, and they returned the favor with any valuable salvage they found wherever they were. The Hand operated out of more than just the States. It was a more…beneficial agreement.”

   “The Hellfire Club didn’t like that.”

    “No. You can imagine not,” LeBeau’s face darkened just a little. The memory was painful and Charles actually felt a sliver of pity for making the thief reflect on this. But he needed the information.

   “…He went to meet them…our leader. He never came back. When we investigated the meeting place, all I found was a strip of his jacket covered in blood,” LeBeau told him quietly. “…They killed him. And they’ve been killing us on sight for the last decade or so. You may not sympathize very much, Detective…and you may not approve of my profession due to the legality of it…but we are a dying breed…in no small part due to the organization you’re lookin’ to take down.”

   “I will take them down,” Charles promised. “I swear on it.”

   “That’s a bold claim…I’m not gonna hold you to it, because what you’re thinkin’ is insane,” LeBeau stated honestly. “but I’ll do what I can. As I said, they’re killin’ us off. That girl in the room? She’s one among…hundreds…maybe thousands. No doubt they’ve grown since I last encountered them…and you can be damn sure they’ll send someone else to take her place and finish the job.”

   “That’s what I’m here for. We’re going to take them down before that can happen,” Charles assured him. “Take me to her. I want to start the questioning.”

 “If you insist,” LeBeau glanced down at his leg again. “You’re very brave, Detective…but you’re not going to be runnin’ and gunnin’ down any assassins with your leg in that shape. They’ve been around for decades. Maybe we should wait on that…and you leave the girl to me.”

   “No,” said Charles firmly, giving him a cold look. “I need to do this now. If I have to repeat myself on that stance one more damn time today…”

  “It’s a legitimate concern, Agent,” said LeBeau. “Even I wouldn’t feel right sendin’ you out there to bring down the Hellfire Club when you can’t even do the goddamn hokey pokey.”

    “Funny.”

    “I’m being serious,”

   “Just take me to Anna Marie,”

   LeBeau just smirked at him before rising from his seat. He offered his arm but Charles just threw him a dirty look before standing upright….and of course not without strain. He tried his best to make sure it didn’t show his features, but it may have slipped because LeBeau’s smile fell, his look just about as disapproving as Alex’s.

   “Your partner is right to be worried about you,” LeBeau stated simply. “I hardly think he’d be as willin’ to go after them.”

   It was becoming abundantly clear by his tone that he did not approve of Alex.

  “Alex is a good person,”

   “I don’t doubt that,” LeBeau opened the door for him, standing idle for a moment, watching him closely as he passed. “but he’s human.”

   “That doesn’t make a difference,” Charles snapped. “So is mostly _everyone_ around us.”

   “He’s not like you. He’s not like me or the people you’re after,” LeBeau pointed out.

   “He’s just as dedicated to this case as I am,” said Charles irritably.

   “Sure,” LeBeau replied skeptically.

   “There’s one more question I have for you. I hope you can continue to be honest with me,” said Charles.

   “I’ll do my best,” said LeBeau sarcastically.

   “The one I’m looking for…the one who killed Mitchell Tanner…do you know anything about him? I know he’s in the city. The one who has the power over metal. Do you know who I’m speaking of?”

  LeBeau was silent for a moment…. “I’ve met him a few times.”

   Charles was slapped in the face with a flash of two memories and he almost shivered from the viewing. The first memory was when LeBeau was perhaps seven or eight, a young boy standing next to his father with a mixture of apprehension and excitement as he looked up at the tall, masked form of the assassin. The assassin was paying him no mind, ignorant completely of the boy in awe of him, attention engaged to LeBeau’s father instead as the deal between their factions was brokered.

    The second memory looked to be recent, maybe within the last year. He saw the darkened streets of New Orleans, the aftermath of a vicious battle…and the victor towering above LeBeau’s fallen form with a blade drawn, tip brushing under the thief’s neck while rain poured around them. The assassin had the thief at his mercy, and Charles felt the ghost of old wounds from LeBeau, hindering his thought process, slowing him down.

   But the killing blow never came.

   LeBeau had been spared. With the thief not understanding why, he was at a loss too.

   “He spared you,” Charles muttered after a moment.  

   LeBeau’s eye twitched, as if he completely forgot that Charles was a telepath and could see it all. He was quick to attempt to close his mind, start reciting the national anthem in his head.

   “…I don’t know why,” LeBeau answered quietly.

   Of course not. But Charles wondered if the mutant he was looking for was just another victim.

   “What else do you know of him?”

  A pause…a minute passed and Charles was briefly wondering if he had to resort to the measure of pulling the answer from LeBeau’s head after all…and then…

   “Magneto,” LeBeau whispered. “That’s what they call him.”

  His eyes quickly shifted to Charles and then away. “…if he’s the one you’re lookin’ for…you have a hard path ahead of you.”

   Charles was a moment responding, committing this name to memory as well. Magneto…Magneto. Finally, after all this time…he had a name.

   “What makes you say that?”

   “Because a person like Magneto doesn’t occupy a city unless he’s got business…and if you’re interferin’ with that business…then he’s goin’ to kill you,” said LeBeau as if just stating a simple fact. “…You have your work cut out for you, detective.”

   A stony silence settled between them as LeBeau entered the elevator and took Charles down two floors. Already, Charles could feel the air start to condense, nearly suffocating him. There was the faint smell of copper and rubber in the air.

  The doors opened to reveal a large hallway with several rooms with clear glass. Cash rooms, LeBeau had called them. Most were full of different armored carts full of currency. Charles imagined that usually these rooms were full of people doing counts throughout the day and night just making sure that everything was accurate.

   He also noted that it seemed like every guard that LeBeau had hired appeared to be down here as well, including Hicks, who seemed beside herself, standing near the entrance to the last room on the left. When they made it, Charles peered inside, seeing for himself that Anna Marie was placed in the middle of the room, her hands behind her back and her feet tied to the legs of the chair. She looked dazed, but otherwise unharmed.

   She was also taking no notice of the people on the other side of the glass. It must have been a double sided mirror, not so unlike the ones used in FBI interrogation rooms. She couldn’t see or hear them…but they could her. LeBeau must have used this to survey the count and make sure everyone inside was doing what they were supposed to.

   “You already drugged her?” Charles asked LeBeau in a strained voice.

    “Not quite…I had Hicks give her a low dose truth serum,” LeBeau glanced at Charles’s expression and scoffed. “I just told you…we’re at war. Morality goes out the window. She tried to kill me tonight.”

   “A truth serum is unethical,” Charles stated.

   “If ya think she’ll be more willing to talk in an FBI room, be my guest. I can guarantee she won’t say a word, no matter what… threats are thrown her way. There is literally…nothin’…you can threaten her with that’ll make her tell you what you want to hear,” said LeBeau.

   “Then what exactly do you propose?”

   “I’ve encountered these people enough to know a little about what they’re about,” said LeBeau. “That girl in there…is probably an Initiate. It means she’s not…an official ranking member yet. Takin’ me out tonight would have probably granted her full…admission.”

   “So? She probably still has knowledge on their inner workings,” said Charles.

   LeBeau shrugged. “Let’s not lie to ourselves, Detective. She’s not the one you want, but she’s not completely without her use.”

   “What…are you getting at now?” Charles sighed, glowering at the other man.

  “She was contacted by some means…Let’s find out that means, use it for ourselves…and tell whoever that we want to set up a meeting with your boy,”

   “You mean use her as bait,” said Charles. “You’re kidding, right.”

   “If you’re worried about being ethical, you’re in the wrong line of business, Agent,” said LeBeau coldly.

   “She’s just a kid,” Charles argued.

    “Who tried to commit murder for the first time tonight,” said LeBeau. “Listen if you’re feeling uneasy about it, just let me do it.”

   “Absolutely no-“

   “Do it,” A voice cut in behind them. Charles jumped.

   He didn’t even hear Alex come up, Charles’s crutch in hand, pressing it to his partner’s chest.

  “Alex?!”

   “He’s right. She’s not the one we’re after. She’s just a tool of something bigger. And we’re aiming to find that bigger something,” said Alex.

   Charles didn’t even know he had heard that much of the conversation, but he was left just gawking at his partner. “Alex…she’s just a kid. What if luring the assassin here puts her in more danger?”

   “She’s safe in a cell,” Alex shrugged. “C’mon, Charles. We’re not going to get anywhere if we just keep staying far behind this guy. You want him, and this is a prime opportunity to get him.”

   LeBeau looked at Alex with a mixture of respect and surprise. “….Look at that…the human actually understands what’s going on.”

   Alex threw him a dirty look. “The thief actually had a good idea.”

   Charles was shaking his head. “It’s risky. I mean…what about you, LeBeau? You’ve been beaten by him before. You really want to invite him here? Willingly? Are you even thinking about the backlash?”

   “Speakin’ like you’re not about to catch someone tonight,” LeBeau frowned at him.

   Charles’s face darkened just a bit. “….He’s eluded us before.”

   “This time he won’t. Have some damn faith in yourself. You’re a telepath. Shut him down just like you shut her down,” said LeBeau.

  “I…can’t read him,” Charles admitted quietly. “…I’ve never been able to. He has some kind of mental defense set up against me. It’s impossible.”

   LeBeau didn’t seem discouraged by this. “This is a secure room. Even Magneto wouldn’t be able to break out of it.”

  Charles’s arguments were dwindling…but he still had an uneasy feeling about all of it…like he was initiating something terrible. LeBeau’s memories of Magneto had left him a little shaken as well. He didn’t know what the mutant would do…or if he’d even bite the bait.

   “…Fine…,” Charles finally relented.

   Alex blew out a sigh of relief, turning to LeBeau. “Since this is your genius idea, LeBeau, let’s go with what you originally suggested…and have you talk to the girl.”

   “I don’t have a problem with that. I don’t have a problem dealing with a college kid,” LeBeau sneered.

   “Neither do I, but just in case she ends up killing you, it works out. So much less paperwork if you go before me,” Alex snapped.

   “Aww…I think you’re startin’ to warm up to me, Detective,” LeBeau smirked, coming close to tap Alex’s cheek. The detective swatted his hand away before it could last very long.

   LeBeau turned towards Hicks. “Give me what was on her person.”

   The guard came forward, not even looking at Charles or Alex as she plucked a tray off an empty cash truck and brought it over to him. LeBeau surveyed each item individually. It was fairly simple and it confirmed what LeBeau had said about her just being an initiate and not a full-fledged member. All she possessed was a small, probably cheap handgun, the hair rods she had used earlier, a swiss army knife, and something else. It looked like a black metal baseball.

   It was that that caught LeBeau’s attention, turning it over idly in his hands.

   “What is that?” Alex probed.

    LeBeau wasn’t immediate in answering, still turning it this way and that. “…Not sure. Looks like StarkTech.”

   “Really. StarkTech,” Alex looked over his shoulder at Charles. “Looks like we may be placing Iron Man under arrest in the near future.”

   “I said it looks like StarkTech. Not that it is,” said LeBeau. “…I know they have a techie in their organization. Didn’t know he was makin’ things like this.”

   “What even is it?” Alex asked with a little more bite.

   “…It’s…,” LeBeau broke off, probably grazing something with his fingers, because the black device left him, seeming to float on its own, level to his face, emitting a purple light.

   A cool female voice came from it.

   _Good evening. I am the Virtual Intelligence of Operations, Logistics and Essential Training. You may call me VIOLET._

   “Oh, it’s an AI,” said LeBeau. “Looks like a lens is in it…I’d think there’d be a person on the other end.”

  _Older models of this device were used by field operatives on the receiving end. I am the most upgraded model of the CamSpy Initiative._

“CamSpy. What a stupid name,” LeBeau commented. “Still…she must have been given this to help locate me. Which means usin’ it to contact Magneto is a safe bet.”

   “Nothing about any of this is safe,” Charles answered, eyes rolling.

   “Live a little, Detective…And as for you,” He looked to Alex with a shrewd look. “Maybe your wish won’t have to come true after all. We can just use this.”

   “Oh, damn,” Alex muttered.

   LeBeau turned back to the CamSpy. “…Who created you?”

   _I am sorry. But that information is confidential._

“I hate how cheery she sounds,” LeBeau growled under his breath. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “…Okay. Who manufactured you?”

   “That’s the _same_ question, you dump truck,” Alex crossed his arms.

   _I’m sorry. But I have been restrained by several security blocks. Unless you are able to verify your identity within the ranks of the organization, I will not be able to assist in answering any questions that may jeopardize the safety of our personnel. Is there anything else I can help you with?_

“What did I tell you?”

    LeBeau ignored him. “How would you verify my identity?”

   _I have taken a retinal scan upon activation. You are not a member of the registry. This unit is equipped to assist trainees in obtaining data essential to completion of certain objectives._

   “What a nice way of saying that it’s a murder robot,” Alex scoffed.

   “Retinal scan…So she can retinal scan Anna Marie,” said LeBeau thoughtfully, glancing inside the cash room at the apprehended assassin.

   Charles was focusing on her as well. “She’s so much harder to read now that you’ve drugged her...”

   “She’s not the one you’re going to question,” said LeBeau. Turning back to VIOLET, he spoke. “…Are you able to connect to someone else within your…network?”

   _Certainly._

“Can you…tell me if a certain someone is within the network?”

   _That is against security protocol._

“This is why technology these days is so terrible,” said Alex.

    “You’ve been hangin’ around the old man too much,” LeBeau stated with a nod towards Charles.

   The detective looked offended. “I’m not that old.”

   “Uh huh,” LeBeau shrugged. “Let’s get this show on the road. Hicks, back me up. I don’t trust these two to do it.”

   Hicks nodded. “Yes, sir.”

   LeBeau grabbed VIOLET and pressed a button on a nearby switch. Alex and Charles scrambled to get out of view, Alex basically dragging him into the corner as the glass parted in the middle to reveal LeBeau standing there.

   Anna Marie’s eyes focused on him, lips twisting slightly.

    “Is this normally how you get a girlfriend, LeBeau?” Anna Marie asked. “You roofie her?”

   “Please… I’m not that low,” LeBeau snapped, stepping further inside. The doors closed behind him.

   “So…,” He began conversationally. But the look on her face pretty much said she was in no mood for it. Despite that, his cheerful tone was still present. “How much was that contract on me?”

   Anna Marie was a moment in answering. “Nothing.”

   “Lame,” Though LeBeau already knew this. His death was just an induction test for her. And he knew…He _knew_ that if she went back without the completed contract that she would be disposed of in the only way the Hellfire Club knew how.

   It was no wonder she looked so forlorn as LeBeau looked at her. So hopeless.

   “Whatever they’re offering. I can double it. You seem resourceful enough. That was a nice touch,” LeBeau complimented her.

   “I don’t want the money of a thief,” Anna Marie spat back.

   “Your loss. You seem to have a … _grim_ future ahead of you,” LeBeau chuckled to himself for the little joke.

  Though Anna Marie looked unamused. “I had you…had it not been for that telepath…you’d be dead right now. And I’d be halfway across the city.”

   “Oh wow, that is crushing, ain’t it?” LeBeau’s hand flew to his chest in mock concern. “And…it was a crippled telepath at that. How embarrassing for you.”

   “You’re pretty cocky, Remy…or should I call you by your real name, **Gambit**?”

   LeBeau gave her no usable reaction, continuing to smile. “You can call me whatever you want, cher.”

   “You know even though I’ve failed tonight…someone else will take my place. And you won’t be able to hide behind your telepath then. They’ll be prepared for him too,”

   “I really doubt that,” said LeBeau. “But you know what…speaking of my telepath friend. He’s really interested in a friend of _yours._ Yeah…been interested for some time. Perhaps you know him? Assassin like the ones you work for…has a bit of a _magnetic_ personality.”

   “This guy….,” Alex muttered from behind the glass, watching LeBeau laugh to himself again. “…needs to be kicked in the shin.”

   “Shh,” Charles shushed him.

   Anna Marie gave LeBeau a cold look. “You’re in over your head, Gambit.”

   “Hardly. Magneto’s walkin’ around like he runs this city. It’s high time someone puts him in his place,” said LeBeau.

   “You don’t think I’ve done my research on you, Gambit? I know you’ve lost to him before. If you really want to die so badly, I'll be happy to oblige that final wish.”

   “To be honest, blossom, your cooperation is not necessary,” said LeBeau. He held up VIOLET. “because I have this.”

   It was clear that Anna Marie Was untrained. She had no intent of schooling her expression, making it look like she didn’t care. No. Panic was all over her face.

   “No,” Anna Marie whispered.

   “Yep,” said LeBeau gleefully. “…Let’s do that retinal scan, shall we?”

   He released the CamSpy and it floated above Anna Marie who closed her eyes too late.

   _Welcome back. How may I assist you today?_

“DEACTIVATE! DEACTI-“ Before she could say it again, LeBeau covered her mouth, careful to position his sleeve over his hand so when her teeth bit down, she didn’t make direct contact with skin.

  “So….so sorry about that. I seem to have something stuck in my throat,” LeBeau cringed just a little when she struggled and teeth clamped down on the fabric.

   “Aww see. You worked with me anyway. Your compliance was _very_ much appreciated,” LeBeau spoke in a low, grating voice in her ear. He let her go as she took a sharp intake of breath, grabbing hold of the CamSpy and taking it out of the room.

   “Come on. To my office,” LeBeau stated to the two detectives, not waiting for a response as he began to lead them back down the hall. The two exchanged glances before moving to follow him.

   “That could have gotten better,” Alex remarked. “Pretty sure I could have gotten her retinal scan without getting bit.”

   “Just shows how kinky that lot is,” LeBeau answered from ahead of them.

   Once they were back in his office, Alex and Charles ducked inside. It was only when they walked further from the door and Charles heard it close that he realized that Hicks had followed them, remaining close by to the exit, just watching what LeBeau was doing at his desk.

   “You two might wanna stay back for this,” said LeBeau, releasing the CamSpy to let it float in front of him while the two detectives refrained from approaching the other chairs.

  “VIOLET, I need you to contact someone in your network,” LeBeau said in a more brisk tone.

   _Affirmative. Who would you like me to contact?_

LeBeau briefly tore his gaze away from the purple light to look at Charles.

   “Connect me with Magneto,”

   _Affirmative. User Alert. If the contacted party does not possess a device, connectivity will not occur. Beginning Encrypted Transmission…._

A whirring sound came from the device, the purple light on LeBeau’s face starting to blink steady.

   “Encrypted transmission…guess that means we can’t track where the signal is coming from,” said Alex.

   Before LeBeau could answer, VIOLET did for him.

   _Affirmative. Encrypted transmissions are for the safety of all personnel. In the event of a compromised situation, all transmissions between those within the network are secured._

“A compromised situation like this, I bet,” said Alex under his breath.

   The blinking light continued for a long time while Charles felt his heartbeat pick up. This was it. He wasn’t sure what he felt more, dread or anticipation. It was a strange little seesaw of opposing emotions. On one hand, he wanted to catch the assassin and this was a perfect way to do it…but there was also the issue of inviting a trained assassin _here._ Willingly. It wasn’t like Anna Marie who had made a mistake and was caught. How could they possibly expect luck to strike twice?

  And then it kept going and some of Charles’s excitement deflated. How did they even know that Magneto had one of these things? Maybe he was an exception?

   But then the light on VIOLET steadied, color shifting to red. First the feet, legs and the rest of his body appeared. Charles actually faltered back a step when he saw him. He didn’t know how much the assassin could see of the room. The holographic image was him, completely….still wearing his assassins’ garb, face masked.

   Magneto’s arms crossed over his chest as he took in the individual who called him.

   And his voice was so…cold.

    “…Gambit.”

    LeBeau returned his tone. “…Magneto.”

    “To what do I owe this… **immense** …displeasure?” Magneto asked.

     “Don’t play coy, Magneto. I wouldn’t be able to contact you like this if I didn’t have something that belonged to your organization.”

   Magneto scoffed at him. “Killed one of ours, did you?  My…and here I was thinking that you didn’t have the instinct.”

   LeBeau’s lips twitched. “…I didn’t kill her. She’s still here.”

   “Hmm….Anti-climactic,” Magneto commented. “Then why are you contacting me?”

   “I want to make a deal,” LeBeau told him.

    “You’re not my contract, Gambit.”

    “No, your boss sent an initiate…and since she failed…I’m sure you and I both remember the process for those who fail.”

   They both paused and Charles had to wonder what LeBeau’s angle was for a moment. It almost sounded like he was appealing to Magneto’s…humanity? His compassion?

   “…What are you proposing.”

   “A deal…like I said. That’s my specialty,” said LeBeau with a little bow of his head. “I’m willing to brush this under the rug, this whole…contract. I’ll even release the girl to you. No harm, no foul.”

   “That’s…an advantageous deal.” Magneto commented. “…But not for you. What do you get out of this?”

   “My name cleared, of course. I trust you to make those arrangements with your….superior,” said LeBeau.

   Magneto took a short step closer to LeBeau, arms uncrossing as he leaned forward, searching LeBeau’s expression for….something. Deceit? His pupils, red in the image darted back and forth between LeBeau’s own eyes.

   “…You’re lying.”

   The two words hung in the air for a moment. Charles swore his heartbeat was in earshot too…and that that was what gave LeBeau away. He was suddenly torn between the urge to close off the transmission and step in to interfere.

   “Am I?” LeBeau countered coolly.

   “You’re **always** lying,” Magneto’s voice was dismissive. “And you don’t perform deals without an even trade. Who’s there with you.”

   _Jesus Christ._ That was nicest slew of words in Alex’s cascade of panicked thoughts.

   “No one,” said LeBeau.

   _This was a bad plan. A bad plan. I knew we couldn’t trust that thief. We shouldn’t have done this to begin with. We should have just questioned the girl. She probably knew more than LeBeau believed anyway. Now we’re in shit. He’s going to come here…probably kill us all. I mean if I was him I would. It’s past midnight. He’s pissed the hell off._

“Alex, stop,” Charles when he couldn’t tune him out.

   But speaking…even as low as Charles _thought_ he had turned out to be a mistake. The sound of his own voice felt like a beacon to the assassin, who twisted around so suddenly, that Charles faltered back another step.

  His eyes raked up Charles’s form, pausing for the briefest few seconds on Charles’s injured leg, the wounded side he was unconsciously hunching over, before flicking up to his face. Charles didn’t know why he felt his cheeks heat under this..... **scrutiny**. The expression in the assassin’s eyes was anything but kind. In fact, with how creased his eyebrows were, he looked nothing short of furious.

   “Detective.”

   The greeting was strained. Charles could have sworn his teeth sounded like they were grinding together.

   “Magneto.” Charles said back, working to put strength in the word. He felt Alex’s hand wrap around his arm as if he was ready to yank Charles away and out of the range of VIOLET’s scanner.

   “If you wanted to see me so badly…all you had to do was ask…,” Magneto’s gaze sliced back to LeBeau and back again. “You didn’t have to place your trust in the hands of a **thief**.”

   Charles cleared his throat, stepping forward tentatively. “You’re a little difficult to locate. Believe me…if you were so easy to find…I would have set this up…differently.”

   Magneto looked back at him, taking him in from head to toe again before he seemed to work in keeping his voice controlled. “…Your leg was crushed. I saw that happen. And yet…the desire for my capture seems to prevail above all in your mind.”

   “You’ve killed innocent people, Magneto,” Charles stated quietly. “No matter where you run or try to hide…that doesn’t change. I will always find you.”

   “Innocent... That implies that they had an _ounce_ of what you call humanity. And these 'people'…,” He seemed to smile, eyes gleaming in a humorless sort of way. “…were far from humane.”

   “That’s no excuse.”

   “I don’t **need** an excuse.”

   It was Charles’s turn to grit his teeth together. “No. You’re proud of it.”

   “I think it’s important to enjoy what you do for a living.”

   Charles expelled a sharp breath, eyes narrowing. “You’re disgusting.”

   “And you’re naïve.” Magneto countered, looking back to LeBeau but continuing to address Charles. “Beware of those you keep your company with, Detective. A thief only has loyalty to his bank account. Especially a **slippery** thief like this one.”

   Charles opened his mouth to respond, glancing at LeBeau as well. He had been staring between them with a very interested look, mouth curled in a small smile. Somehow the sight made Charles feel, if possible, even more uncomfortable.

   When LeBeau realized the attention was on him, he slid away from behind his desk and made his approach to Charles, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

   “The detective and I are good friends now, Magneto. Very good friends. I’ve been tellin’ him a whole bunch of tales from the past,” said LeBeau. “He’s pretty happy to meet someone a little more…forthcoming. I think I’ll let him know a little more when we head to bed.”

   Charles flushed at the blatant implication LeBeau threw out so candidly. The air seemed to chill. Magneto’s whole body in the holo seemed to stiffen and Charles figured it was a trick of light when he saw his eye twitch. The bravado seemed to disappear and all the anger was back in full force.

   The assassins’ voice was like ice, flat. “When do you want to meet?”

   LeBeau’s lips quirked up even further. “Tomorrow night. You know where _we’ll_ be.”

  Magneto looked like he was about to argue, force his company right now. But he didn’t. He just looked between the two of them, eyes sharp on LeBeau’s arm around Charles, watching as it left and slunk between them to grip the detective’s hand. Then he turned from the screen, the red image distorting before it disappeared altogether.

  Guess they were supposed to take that as a confirmation.


	25. Blindsided

 Charles’s sleep was restless. Of course it would be. After the stunt that LeBeau had pulled on the call with Magneto, he was in no way inclined to make that little insinuation of sleeping together a reality. He couldn’t truly understand the man’s reaction, the way he looked at the two of them…and how his expression seemed to pinch when it went back to LeBeau…like he was a fly on the wall that needed to be squashed.

   So instead Charles was cooped up in LeBeau’s office with a few of the mercenaries outside, laid out on a very uncomfortable couch as he struggled to find a better position. Finally…when the pain in his injured ribs and his leg started to die down, he was able to close his eyes and let sleep take over.

   That didn’t last long. It felt like a few seconds later that the door was opening and LeBeau was walking back in.

   “Oh…good…sleeping beauty’s awake,” LeBeau commented, stepping inside further, Hicks trailing behind him. He looked over Charles’s diagonal form with a slight frown.

   “Really should’ve done what your partner did. We had plenty of room in the hotel across the street. I own that venue,” LeBeau told him.

   “It was fine,” said Charles, rubbing his eyes and pulling Erik’s jacket off himself. It was kind of nice, being able to smell the other man in his sleep…easier to pretend that he was close.

   “No, it really ain’t,” LeBeau pressed. “Luckily, I got you covered.”

   Charles just threw him a half exasperated, half irritated look. “What does that mean?”

   “Means I got a handle on the situation,” said LeBeau vaguely. Something made a beeping noise from his computer and he shifted over to it, eying something on the screen. “Speaking of which…Hicks, you mind showin’ him in?”

   “I mean…last time he got stuck on one of your machines and hit a jackpot,” Hicks replied.

   “Oh yeah…fine. I’ll go. Stay right here, Detective,” said LeBeau, turning back around.

   Charles covered his face, trying to rub sleep and fatigue away to no avail. His mind was all over the place. If he was a telepath reading him, he might completely shut him out. Thoughts went to what happened last night…what they were planning  _tonight._ Some part of Charles actually figured it was a dream…and he expected to be back in his bed at home, sitting at square one. 

  But they weren’t…they were as close as they could be…but it all hinged on Magneto actually showing up. LeBeau was confident he would, despite being hung up on. And Charles…Charles should have felt the tinge of anticipation for it…the hunger he always did that drove him forward with this case.

  He didn’t, however…and that was concerning. He wanted to blame it on the very little sleep attained, but Charles knew better. He knew his uneasy feeling started as soon as Alex went along with the plan to use Anna Marie as bait. He couldn’t quite shake off that something terrible was going to happen…and he didn’t know why.

   Maybe because he liked his plans foolproof and there was too many unknowns here. Magneto would no doubt suspect this was a trap and he wouldn’t be wrong.  They didn’t even have a real plan to get Magneto into one of the cash rooms that LeBeau had suggested. Charles didn’t like relying so heavily on a thief that had his own agenda.

   And Magneto…he could safely say he trusted him even less than LeBeau…but his words stayed somewhat.

    _Beware of those you keep your company with, Detective. A thief only has loyalty to their bank account. Especially a slippery thief like this one._  

Charles ran his hand through his hair, trying not to focus on the rest of the conversation that took place after. His mind inexplicably went to Erik…no doubt the man was wondering why he didn’t come home last night…if he bothered to stay up.

   He swiped on his phone, cringing somewhat at the time displaying 12:00. Had he slept that long? It didn’t feel like it. It made it worse when he was calling Erik’s number, confident he would pick up at this late hour.

   Two rings and then Charles heard the click.

   “Hey.” Erik’s voice sounded stiff. Charles wondered if he was imagining it.

  “Hey…Sorry…I didn’t come back home last night. I uh…,” Charles scrambled to think. He hadn’t bothered thinking up an excuse before he started dialing.

  “Turns out that lead was a bust…so I sort of passed out at the office,” Charles told him in a rushed voice.

   Erik paused for a few seconds. “…That’s fine. I turned in early as well.”

   The silence was so awkward…and Charles didn’t know why he had a gut feeling that Erik didn’t believe him.

    Maybe it was just his paranoia.

   “…I was thinking…if you’re free…we could do something tomorrow night. Just you and me. No interruptions, this time. We can…discuss the trip?”

   The question was posed and to be quite frank, Charles really didn’t expect an immediate answer. He got a tense vibe from this conversation already.

   And of course Erik didn’t disappoint. A moment later, he spoke, his voice clipped.

   “I have plans.”

   “Oh…well maybe the day after?”

   Another pause.

   “…No. Sorry. I’m busy.”

   “…Okay…I mean…we can always just phone it in. I can reach out? Maybe whenever you’re free next?”

   “Let me get back to you on that…I’ll call you. See you soon, Charles.”  

   Charles opened his mouth to respond, but the phone beeped and he was left looking at a red screen with Erik’s name over it. He gave him no time to respond and Charles was left wondering how he upset the other man so much. Was it their conversation last night…or the fact that he didn’t show up? Erik wasn’t leaving much room for an explanation.

    _Because he doesn’t want one._  

He tried not to linger on that, even though a stinging pain was already starting to clench in his chest. No, he had to focus. It was a bad idea to be distracted by personal matters to begin with. 

  Luckily that was when the door opened and he was faced with LeBeau and an unfamiliar individual with short blonde hair and blue eyes. He sort of looked like Alex except for the thin, impatient line that was his lips. It was kind of grating to be looked at with such annoyance by someone who had barely spent two seconds in his presence, but there it was. He was dressed very similarly to LeBeau, except his black overcoat was much less  patchy, his hands covered in his pockets. His skin was a bit lighter, slightly gold in comparison to the average person.

   “Detective…This is Josh. Joshua Foley,” said LeBeau, placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Or you can call him by his more colorful moniker, Elixir.”

   “Please don’t,” Josh remarked with an irritable glance at LeBeau.

   “Josh is my second in command,” LeBeau went on.

   “He likes to think so,” said Josh in a bored voice.

    “Is he…,” Charles paused, realizing he was being rude as he addressed Josh directly. “Are you another mutant?”

   “That’s why he’s called Elixir,” LeBeau pointed out.

   “That…,” Charles frowned at him. “doesn’t explain much?”

   “He can-“

   “I can heal others. And judging by your state…that’s what I’m here to do,” said Josh, looking to LeBeau. “You called me off my shift to heal a cop?”

   “He’s a telepath, Joshy. Work with me here.”

   Josh didn’t look impressed by this. He looked over Charles. “A strained telepath. Your injuries are hindering your focus…but you also seem…distracted.”

   Charles just gawked at him after the…analysis?

   “Is there another mind reader in the room now?”

   “No…but people usually have tells. Signs. Stress has a tell. And you have an abundance of it.”

   “Is this the part where you offer me some kind of massage, because I have to say? I’m not comfortable with that,” said Charles.

   “No,” said Josh, reaching down to place his hand over Charles’s head. He may not have offered a massage, but he had no problem running his hand through Charles’s hair and resting his palm over his scalp. Charles’s eyebrows furrowed, about to snap again or swat his hand away, but then the perpetrating hand disappeared as Josh straightened himself and looked to LeBeau.

   “Tell me why I’m doing this first,” said Josh. “…You’ve been keeping me out of the loop on certain things…and I’m pretty sure this is one of them. Telepath or not, this is a cop. You know how we deal with those. Is he one of ours?”

   LeBeau regarded him impassively. “…No. But I need him at a hundred percent. You can’t outrun an assassin with injuries like his.”

   “An assassin,” Josh looked between them rapidly. “What assassin?”

   LeBeau didn’t answer him, just tilted his head and let the silence speak for him.

   “Magneto.” said Josh. “You wouldn’t do all this for anyone else. Christ, Remy. Is your pride really worth all this? What’re you trying to do now? Go out the ‘honorable’ way like Jean-Luc did?”

   The name rang unfamiliar to Charles, yet he watched LeBeau’s jaw tick, the first time he had ever seen a hint of true anger in the thief. He broke first under Josh’s searching gaze to the ground next to his him instead.

    “Contrary to whatever you believe of my intentions, Josh,” LeBeau’s hissed angrily, strained as he barely held himself in check. “…This has  _nothing_  to do with what happened in the past. The Hellfire Club sent a contract after me last night. The FBI just so happened upon me during that time as well. I’m just lookin’ to get me and by extension ——  _all of us_  —— in the clear.”

    Josh regarded him warily. “I take it that’s why we’re closed.”

    “You got it. The assassin they sent is in one of our cash rooms. She’s secure for now.”

    “So you’re looking to do a trade off,” said Josh. “A clean slate for her freedom?”

    “Yes.”

    Josh shook his head. “And you expect that to work? You expect Magneto to keep his word?”

    “With a gun to his head, I expect him to be very compliant to our demands,” said LeBeau coolly.

    “Assuming he doesn’t  _stop the bullet_  first,” Josh answered him, stretching out his words as though LeBeau was having trouble following them.

    “Are you done playing conscience, Jiminy?” LeBeau pointedly nodded towards Charles between them. “Can you do me a solid and heal the telepath?”

   “Do I have a say in this?” Charles asked. “I mean…I feel fine.”

   “And he’s a masochist,” Josh went on, keeping his gaze on LeBeau. “ _Really_ , man?”

   “Really.”

    “FINE,” Josh answered angrily, leaning back down to Charles. He lightly placed a hand on his rib, and though there was little to no pressure behind it, Charles still felt like flinching away. He watched as Josh closed his eyes in concentration.

   A moment passed and Charles felt like nothing was happening…that this was a ruse. He was about to brush aside Josh’s hand when he felt his skin heat underneath his clothes. His teeth ground together, and Josh’s other hand clamped down on his shoulder to keep him still.

   “Stings at first,” He muttered. 

  Charles let out a sharp breath that he was holding in and when Josh pulled away, he gingerly touched over his ribs feeling no stiffness or soreness that he felt seconds ago. When he looked at the other mutant, so close to his face, he could have sworn that his skin had taken on a bit of a glow but before he could inspect further, Josh’s palm moved over Charles’s injured leg. This time he did twitch just a little. A bruised rib was one thing…but he was pretty sure a leg that had been broken for more than a few days was not possible.

   But Josh surprised him and he felt the familiar heat radiating from his knee and then a very loud pop that brutally stung. Charles flinched for real this time, his knee bending so quickly that he was sure he had rebroken it with the careless movement. But there was no sharper pain…in fact it felt like the pain was a dull ache now. He moved his leg feeling not heat now but a bit cold underneath the fabric.

   There was no mistaking now that Josh looked a bit more golden hued now. It must have changed him when he healed others. He stood up, testing his full weight on the leg.

   “….Thank you…Really…,” said Charles sincerely. “You didn’t have to do that.”

   “I know I didn’t,” Josh cocked an eyebrow. “And I usually wouldn’t…but since you plan on conducting a suicide mission…may as well help out …even though I think…”

   He flashed LeBeau another disapproving glare. “…that he’s out of his mind.”

   “I’m of perfectly sound mind, thank you,” said LeBeau hotly.

   Josh crossed his arms. “Well, you’re not  _completely_  helpless now. There’s no way I’m sitting pretty if you’re letting the lion out of the cage.”

   LeBeau clapped him on the shoulder roughly. “I knew I could count on you.”

   Josh shrugged away from him. “…Let’s just see if we can come up with a plan. I assume you have at least half of one already.”

   “Something like that.”

   “First things first, we need to check our security.” Josh nodded towards the door before turning to Charles. “…I need to be caught up to speed on everything too. You stay here for now.”

* * *

  Charles took the time to leave LeBeau’s office, enjoying that every step didn’t feel like agonizing pain. The casino was emptied out except for the guards and Charles had to wonder if this had ever happened before even on a holiday. He could practically feel LeBeau’s panicked thoughts on the prospect of how much money he was losing by closing.

  The agent went back to the cash room where Anna Marie had been last night, somewhat pleased to see that there was wrappings of a sandwich and a discarded coke can. At least they weren’t completely treating her like a caged animal, but the way she paced back and forth in a line, it was hard not to make somewhat of a comparison. Her hair was down now from the messy bun she had it up in before, framing her face. The white strands near her parting were more prominent now. She had rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, unbuttoned the top button. Well, it probably wasn’t air conditioned in there.

   Anger pulsed in her veins but Charles was pleased to find that her mind was a little easier to read now that the drug had wore off….but less pleased to hear how venomous her thoughts were regarding her situation, her captors and her situation after this was over, one way or another. She was truly afraid of what might happen and half of her was really debating asking to be kept here.

   And then her gaze snapped on Charles when she saw him through the glass. Guess whoever was here last didn’t flick the switch back to keep them hidden.

   “Up and about again,” She commented, giving Charles a shrewd glare.

    “Yeah…,” Charles placed his hands behind his back.

   “What do you want? Come to assassin watch? Because I’m sure LeBeau has a cane you can use if you want to start poking too.”

   “I’m not…,” Charles became flustered. “not here for that. I just wanted to talk to you. I know you probably don’t know too much but any little bit helps.”

   “Do you know how big the  _fucking_ hole I’ve already dug myself in is?” Anna Marie snapped. “I had a limited time to complete this contract, even if you weren’t sending the biggest wolf in the woods to pick me up, I’m still screwed.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” said Charles quietly. “The world isn’t black and white like that. It doesn’t boil down to kill or no kill.”

   “Maybe not your world…but mine…,” Anna Marie trailed off hopelessly. “You don’t understand. It’s not a problem you’d ever have to face. The worse you’d ever face is being on the receiving end.”

    _Oh that’s the worst, huh?_  

He expected Anna Marie to fall silent but she had stopped her relentless pacing to stare at him. 

   “Of course I imagine showing up with a meddlesome telepath might put me in everyones’ good graces again.”

   “I’ll pass.”

   “Calm down, Detective. They’re not gonna kill you. At least not immediately. They always keep what they find useful…and you’d prove very useful to the cause, I’m sure. This is a business opportunity. One of a lifetime.”

   “I think I make decent money doing what I do…You know… _the right thing_ ,” Charles answered with a smile.

   “Hrn,” She smirked at him. “What a waste. They could really use someone like you. In fact, I think they’re looking for a telepath anyway. They can’t seem to keep any.”

   “I’m sure they could use someone like me…but again, I’ll pass,” said Charles. He took a quick look around him before pressing the button below the switch. The glass doors opened and Charles stepped inside.

   Unwittingly, she took a step back too, surprised at his courage. Who walked into a cage with a very agitated assassin?

   “…Is the part where you try to have a heart to heart with me? Because I just want you to know, that I’m really not in want of any father figures, believe me.”

   “It doesn’t hurt to try to reason with someone. You’re a smart girl, Anna Marie. I know you felt you had no choice, when they found you…but you still have the choice to do something better. Last night was just a test…a game…and you don’t have to play into it. There are other options.”

   She seemed surprised at the depth of his knowledge into her past, then her face twisted into a scowl when she remembered who she was dealing with. Oh yeah, telepath. He had probably seen everything she had built to suppress.

   “There is not.” She countered. “You go into this thing for life. There is no walking away.”

   “You’re not in, Anna Marie,” Charles implored her, stepping closer. Her eye twitched and she took a step back in turn.

   “…You still have the choice to walk away. Make a better life for yourself. You’re young.”

   She inhaled sharply. “Stop  _acting_ like you give a damn. You don’t. You’re not here for me. I’m not even the one you want. You want Magneto. You’re just using me as bait.”

   “That wasn’t my idea.”

   “Oh, well aren’t you a saint.”

   “Anna Marie…,” Charles sighed, hand running through his hair. “…if I had another choice right now, I would do it. But I have to catch this person. He’s not like you, not like me. He’s a cold-hearted killer. He enjoys doing so. He said that to me himself.”

   Anna Marie broke her gaze from him, scowling heavily. Her thoughts were rather dismissing, preferring Charles to leave now and leave her unbothered.

   “Listen…,” Charles stepped closer to her. “…I want to make you promise. As long as I am here…apart of this, I won’t let any harm come to you.”

   Anna Marie just glowered at him, though he saw the flicker of surprise making her eyebrows raise somewhat.

   “Why exactly….Why would  _you_  promise me something like that?” 

    “Because it’s not fair,” Charles dared to take another step closer to her until they were level. His eyes glanced down to the handcuffs that were still binding her down, his own frown becoming more pronounced.

   “It’s not fair…that you were born with abilities that no one else has, no matter what they are. It’s not fair that there are people that seek to use you…to use you as a weapon of some sort to harm others. It’s not right. It’s not fair…and deep down…I think you know that too.”

   She was speechless. And she hated that he actually managed to sew in that seed of doubt. Her immediate thought following the doubt was that he had performed some kind of telepathic mind trick.

   “It’s not,” Charles shook his head. “I don’t even have a handle on…mind control yet. I thought I could just read minds.”

   She gave him a skeptical look, but said nothing.

    “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry about that too. It was never my desire to…take control like that. I wanted to stop you…and that’s all I could think of, and it didn’t know it…happened because I wanted it to,” said Charles quietly. “Not exactly moral in my books, to rob someone of their free will.”

   Again, she was surprised. Charles was something… **unusual**  to her. Just reading through Anna Marie’s past, her memories…he found it stinging to see. She had been a hopeless case to the rest of the world when the Hellfire Club found her on the streets, living off discarded food to survive. She had been kicked out of her home after a disastrous encounter with her boyfriend that left him hospitalized. She had never looked back since…but  _they_  had found her. 

  Through her eyes, he found himself looking at a group of three assassins that barred her path on the sidewalk late that fateful night. It was the night that changed her life, the night she turned on everything she once knew to embrace a completely different path. Charles couldn’t help if it was chance, or if they had a way of simply knowing who and what she was somehow.

   Anna Marie had never looked back after this, focusing all of her energy on using her power, mastering it, mastering combat. Yet Charles could feel something sorrowful in her thoughts, a regret buried deep. Her parents…her old life, some part of her would _always_ miss it, always wish to go back, to have that normalcy that was robbed of her. Many nights, many dreams were spent going back to her old home, to that kiss that caused her to run and keep from turning back. She was always wondering how it would have been, where she would be…if things had ended differently, if she…had made a different choice.

   “Just think about what I’ve said,” Charles advised at last, pulling away from her memories so he could lay a hand very tentatively on her shoulder, his warm smile making her flinch. He ignored that, going on. “and remember what I promised. I meant every word and you can hold me to it.”

   He turned and made way towards the door, expecting silence to follow him. Though he was pleasantly surprised to hear her sound a little more subdued and less…mistrusting.

   “…Detective,” Anna Marie called, waiting until he turned to look at her, her expression serious.

   “I don’t know too much about Magneto. I never even met him, myself.” She admitted. “But there are a few things you should know if you’re really… **serious** about doing this.”

   Charles paused, a frown beginning to appear. “….Tell me.”

   She sighed, shaking her head. He could feel the doubt and hesitation permeate her mind, yet she slowly started to dismiss the restrictions the best she could. She was already confiding in him, and there was something... **genuine**  about Charles to her. She trusted him, though she was surprised herself to realize this.

  It made saying what she was about to say so much easier.

  “He’s part of the Inner Circle. They’re not…as disorganized as the Thieves Guild. The way I understand it…only three people can be part of the Inner Circle at a time and he’s one of them.”

   Charles paused to comprehend the significance of her statement and he delved a little deeper into her mind for that. From what she had been told, the Inner Circle were the top members of the Hellfire Club. Most of the orders were allocated via burner phones with temporary phone cards, but those in the Inner Circle appeared to receive their orders from the head of the organization…and it appeared Anna Marie had no name or face to that person.

   “I’m sure Gambit has told you of our war with the Hand. Well…you don’t get to be apart of the Inner Circle without taking down a few…higher-ups,” Anna Marie cast him a dark look.

   “…I…see.”

   “I’m telling you…because you should know what you’re getting into,” Anna Marie went on. “I’m sure you’ve heard enough warnings from everyone who’s encountered Magneto…but I figured this would be something you’d want to know too.”

  “It is. You’ve been very helpful. Thanks for the information,” Charles said at last to Anna Marie, smiling faintly. “I’ll…take heed. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

   “Besides my freedom?” Anna Marie quipped.

   “Soon…I promise,” Charles lifted a finger to his head, turning to leave her.

* * *

    The two thieves, LeBeau and Josh had both left to ‘conduct some business’ so Charles was left alone in LeBeau’s office, testing his weight here and there on his leg to make sure the healing business was legitimate. It was amazing. It felt like he never damaged the leg at all. He was grateful for the assistance from Josh but he couldn’t help but think that there was some kind of catch to it.

  He wouldn’t be surprised if he was sent a bill for an obscene amount of money in the future.

   Alex arrived a little later in the afternoon, kicking LeBeau’s office door open because his hands were occupied by holding a large black box. He gave Charles a noncommittal nod as he saw him, almost visibly breathing a sigh of relief in knowing LeBeau wasn’t here.

   “Had to pick something up,” Alex explained before Charles could ask, holding up the black box that was a little wider than a typical shoe box. Definitely didn’t look like a typical package delivered from Amazon.

   Charles stood up from LeBeau’s desk to approach, freezing Alex in his tracks.

   “Are you walking?” Alex asked. “How…the **hell**  are you walking?” 

   “Long story short…LeBeau’s got a few friends with special powers,” said Charles, waving a hand.

   “Lucky you,” said Alex, though he was beaming at him. “Very useful….though I hope you don’t have to pay for it in some way.”

   “Me neither,” Charles nodded. “What have you got?”

   “Well…when I figured we were going against someone who can control metal…I thought we’d need this,” Alex set the box in front of him and opened it, pushing aside the paper. It was a set of handcuffs unlike anything Charles had seen before. Sleek and silver like metal would be but a little ridged on the inside, obviously meant to cause pain to whomever they were holding. The chain between them was a little more than a foot long.

   “I ordered these from Trask Industries…got Alvarez to approve it. Not an ounce of metal on them. They use them for reconnaissance missions. Says they’re made with some kind of space-age polymer.”

   Charles pulled them out of the box outright, noting immediately just how much more heavier they felt than regular handcuffs. His fingers brushed over the shining substance before he set them down.

   “This is assuming we get close enough.”

    “Or assuming he shows up at all.” said Alex.

   Before Charles could answer, a voice spoke up from the door.

    “He will,” said Josh, stepping inside and glancing towards Alex. 

    “Don’t you worry yourself, Agent Xavier,” LeBeau’s voice came in a slow drawl, heading further into the room, glancing down that new handcuffs with a bit of a smirk.

   “He’s going to show,” Josh affirmed once again.

   “How are you so sure?” Charles pressed them.

   LeBeau glanced vaguely behind him. “We have something he wants. Besides…he made contact. 9:00 sharp.”

   “You talked to him without us there?” Charles asked incredulously.

   “This is  _our_ operation,” said Alex. “You understand that? It’s our operation.  _Nothing_  happens without our okay.”

   LeBeau and Josh exchanged a quick look, Josh rolling his eyes and LeBeau just continuing to look amused at the pair of them.

   “Readin’ you loud and clear, detective,” said LeBeau.

   “I still say we sweeten this deal,” said Josh, saying it like this was an ongoing conversation today between LeBeau and himself. “We’re taking losses by closing down the casino today and tonight…and it’s all because of him. May as well get compensated. Do you have any idea how much they get paid per contract? It’s usually an insane amount. All washed. All cleaned and legit.  Nearly all of them have to be billionaires.”

   “That’s blood money. I wouldn’t call it clean,” said Charles.

    “And we’re  **not**  asking for money,” Alex put in. 

    “Not your call, Detective Spring.”

    Alex paused at the incorrect usage of his last name, glowering at LeBeau.

   “I just want you to know that if I could cause physical harm to  _one_  person on the planet with my mind…it would be you.” 

   “How sweet.” LeBeau placed a hand over his chest, pretending to be touched.

   “We’ll defer to your judgment,” Josh cut in calmly, looking at Charles. “This is  _your_  operation, after all.” 

   Charles smiled a little. “I appreciate it. But we’re not releasing the girl to him under any cost.”

   “No,” LeBeau agreed. “…We’re not. She’ll face a fate worse than death if she’s taken back.”

   “I don’t like the idea of using her as bait either.” said Charles, frowning.

   LeBeau nodded, as though he was expecting a response like that from him. “Our options are…unfortunately…limited in that respect. But enough about this. We need to come up with a plan. Lucky for you, I have a few ideas.” 

* * *

  At 8:50, LeBeau was all over the place, speaking to various security guards and Hicks several times. He had moved Anna Marie to an empty vault with Hicks guarding her on the outside. Apparently, that was on a special floor labeled V that few people had been given access. Josh, Alex and Charles were moved from LeBeau’s office to the much more stuffy security room, but at least now they had a wall full of security camera screens displaying the entire casino. From here, they would be able to see everywhere and everything going on at all times. 

   The thief had also gotten Josh to slice into the VIOLET device, taking away most of the security blocks. VIOLET was still unwilling to give highly confidential information such as the location of the Hellfire Club and who else was in it. Josh had said that if he tried to hack into the device any more, he may have damaged it. She was now requiring something like a ‘master’ code to get through to all of its functions.

   She was at least no longer asking for a retinal scan and appeared to be all right with integrating into their security system.  Charles knew the older security blocks were still in place but that didn’t stop him from trying to pry out more information about Magneto.

   _I am sorry Agent Xavier that I am not able to be of more assistance to you. If there is another inquiry you would like information on, I will be happy to give it to you._  

   It was like the eighteenth time she had said this.

   “I feel like we’re dealing with Alexa and she can’t access google,” said Alex, running his hand through his hair. “Useless thing.”

   LeBeau walked in, setting aside his communicator to eye Charles, Josh and Alex.

   “It’s time. You guys know what to do,” said LeBeau. He waited for all of them to nod back at him before turning to Charles. “…You come with me Detective.”

  Charles looked up, somewhat surprised. He had figured he was going to have to fight to get LeBeau convinced on his company.

  LeBeau smiled at Charles’s expression. “There’s no point in hidin’ that you’re here, detective. You’ve made yourself known. Besides, I could use the mental backup.”

  “I still can’t read his thoughts,” Charles admitted slowly. “But…I can try to get a read on his emotions. At least I’ll be able to give you a heads up if something seems…off.”

  “Charles.” Alex’s voice dripped with disapproval.

   “It’s fine, Alex. Just watch my back,” said Charles with a nod towards the security screens. Alex followed his gaze and Charles took the opportunity to step closer to the door.

   “Come on, man…”

   _You just got your leg healed._

“I’ll be back before you know it,” said Charles, not waiting for a reply before he headed out of the room with the thief.

  “Just follow my lead, detective,” said LeBeau. “And everything will be fine. Stick close to me and nothin’ will happen to you.”

  “Thanks…,” said Charles. “I appreciate it. But I can take care of myself.”

  LeBeau shrugged. “I’m sure. Your partner should be fine with Josh.”

  “I hope so,” Charles commented, looking to LeBeau’s guarded expression. “I know you don’t approve of his presence…but I appreciate your concern regardless. For both of us.”

   “Don’t thank me. We’re not out of this yet.”

   The rest of the way was quiet, LeBeau’s thoughts were focused on Magneto and what his capabilities were, mentally calculating whether or not he could put up a fight if it came to one. 

   When they reached the ground floor, Charles was both relieved and somewhat taken aback by the sight of all of LeBeau’s slot machines turned off and the lights cut out completely. There was a faint whirring sound, yet beyond that complete silence. Charles fell a little behind LeBeau, allowing the man to lead the way to the front where Charles realized for the first time that it was raining hard, a storm brewing above their heads. 

   The parking lot remained empty as LeBeau and Charles stayed near the entrance, both of them on the lookout. The rain would provide the assassin a good cover and Charles couldn’t help but think this was another omen that this was a bad idea. Still, there was no going back now and after talking to Anna Marie and the brief conversation with the assassin, he wanted this encounter to happen. 

   A flash of lightning lit up the sky and then the accompanying boom of thunder caused Charles to flinch despite seeing it coming. His eyes snapped upward as we watched another bolt streak across the sky. A few minutes passed and then something moved in front of him. A large black SUV was now sitting in the middle of parking lot. He glanced at LeBeau, knowing he hadn’t flinched an inch, his eyes locked on the car as the dark figure emerged from it. As soon as the assassin stepped away, the car pulled out of the driveway, the rain cover providing a perfect cover against seeing what the plates said. 

    Every step the assassin took towards them felt like Charles’s heart was beating in tune with it. His chest felt like it was constricting, but he couldn’t focus on that. No, he had to focus on  _him._  

    Impossible to read as ever. Charles pressed a finger lightly to his temple as if that would hone his focus, feeling as though he was applying as much psychic pressure as he did with stopping Anna Marie in her tracks. Another person would probably fall backwards, stagger, but Magneto didn’t even flinch.

  It doesn’t make sense. None of it does. Why? _Why not?_

And then LeBeau’s thought pushed its way inside Charles’s mind, probing, questioning.

  _Talk to me, Agent. Tell me what you feel. I need a read on this guy._

But Charles was trembling when he answered him, his teeth hindering his voice just the slightest. “…I can’t. He’s impossible to read.”

   _That’s not what I want to hear. Come on. Focus. You have the power to break through whatever barriers he has up._

 “I am focusing,” Charles hissed back. “It’s like he’s…closed himself off completely, just…shut down.”

   _He doesn’t look shut down to me. He looks ready to murder someone. But then again, that’s probably his default mode._

“I mean I can’t get a read on his emotions either. I mean… I can, but they’re even further than usual,” Charles’s face fell in frustration and annoyance. “He’s…irritated that he’s here.”

    _That makes two of us._

   But Charles wasn’t exactly sure if he was feeling his own aggravation reflecting back at him or if it was genuinely the assassin.

   The assassin was closer now, Charles could see the wet glisten in the texture of his uniform. Beneath that cloak, he could be hiding so many weapons, and Charles was pretty sure he was. If he was him, and this was the meeting he had been called to, he would have had every weapon at his disposal.

  Yeah, that really didn’t ease his mind right now.

  This may be the last time to speak so candidly to LeBeau.

  “Just be on your guard.”

   “That was the plan anyway,” LeBeau managed to say back before pressing a finger to his lips, his attention drawn away from Charles.

   When Magneto stopped short of where they stood, Charles fought the impulse to back up a step. Like every other time Charles had encountered him, he had the cover of darkness at his disposal. His eyes gleamed over the mask as he continued to look at Charles in a way that made his chest tighten.

  Like he had in the holographic conversation, he looked down Charles’s body, stopping short of his leg, head tilting just the slightest. Charles felt a glimpse of his confusion as his eyebrows furrowed.

   “…Quite a quick recovery you’ve made, Agent Xavier,” The metallic, cold sound of his voice made the hair on Charles’s neck stand on end.

  But he stood his ground.

   “…Always nice to have friends in the city who can help out in a pinch.”

   “I wonder if these friends have collected payment on such generous services,” said Magneto quietly, finally shifting his eyes to LeBeau. “So strange for a thief to hand out favors.”

  LeBeau met his gaze evenly. “Not yet…but I’m sure the good detective will _pay out_ eventually.”

   A flicker of emotion seeped through the cracks. It had to be less than a fraction of a second, but Charles still caught a trace of it and it was enough to make him internally cringe. Though he couldn’t guess what LeBeau had said that would bring on such…rage.

   His next words cut straight to the point. “Where’s the girl?”

   “She’s in a safe place,” said LeBeau. “Ready for your procurement.”

   “Is that so.”

   “Of course…I honor my deals,” said LeBeau. “Though we didn’t get to _elaborate_ over the phone as much as I wanted to on the terms of this exchange.”

  Magneto crossed his arms, his entire body tilted to the side. His eyebrows were still furrowed. The assassin was clearly still upset, clearly impatient, but his tone remained subdued.

   “You want me to clear your contract.”

   “Yes, that’s my term,” LeBeau agreed, tracing his lower lip. “However, as you can see with the detective’s presence, there’s another player in the game. He has his own terms for you as well.”

   Magneto looked towards Charles expectantly.

   The detective stared back, unwavering. “…Once we give you the girl…We want you to take your syndicate and leave this city…leave New York.”

   Charles half thought he saw a flash of something in the assassin’s expression, but this one was actually too quick for him to catch, so he had no choice but to go on, keeping strength and conviction in his voice.

   “Become _someone else’s_ problem…Someone else’s issue. I’ve done everything I can. And it’s obvious you’re not someone I can…take down. My superiors don’t understand that, but they will if you’re gone.”

   Magneto focused on him for a long time, and Charles knew…he _knew_ he was being scrutinized in every which way the assassin could. He knew that Magneto was searching for the lie, the contradiction…but he couldn’t be sure if his words were being heeded, being believed.

  He expected to be laughed at, scorned for his request or even outright denied, but Magneto surprised him.

    “…You’re tired of this, Detective?” The assassin’s voice was gentle, a whisper. The detective could see a gleam in his eyes that he had never seen before.

   Charles was a moment answering, staring for a moment too long. “…Yes.”

   Magneto nodded as though in understanding. “…Me too.”

   So much emotion in those two words. The admittance of it appeared to bring the assassin the smallest ounce of…relief? Perhaps he did not take to professing a weakness, but it felt like **more** than that. So much more. and Charles couldn’t guess what else was lingering there, even though it reverberated throughout the detective’s entire body. It felt like the assassin was trying to tell him something without saying it outright, begging him, _pleading_ with him to understand.

   But he couldn’t..

   LeBeau cleared his throat and Charles jumped, almost forgetting the thief’s presence entirely.

   “So these terms then, they’re acceptable? You clear my contract with your superiors… You take the girl, and you leave the city tonight.”

   Magneto tore his gaze from Charles. “...Your terms are reasonable. Take me to her.”

   “Excellent,” LeBeau clasped his hands together. “Follow me then.”

   The thief turned and walked back into the casino. Charles matched his stride and kept with him as Magneto followed close behind. There was not any room for conversation, for Charles to tell LeBeau what he had felt in this conversation, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell LeBeau anyway. All at once, he felt uncomfortable, his heartrate was out of control. He glanced back more than a few times to make sure the assassin was still there before they entered the elevator together.

   Even then, even in the silence, he couldn’t get a read on him. All of the assassins’ walls were back up, yet standing right next to Charles where barely a few inches kept their shoulders from brushing, Charles could see the rigid tension in his body as he remained perfectly still. He peeked over at him to see that his eyes were closed as though he was concentrating on something, arms crossed over his chest.

   A minute passed, maybe two and then he looked down at Charles. Charles parted his lips to speak, the assassin's eyes flickering downward to follow the movement. He wanted to ask if something was wrong, and the words seemed to die in his throat.

   _Why are you looking at me like this?_

He wanted to ask that too, but he felt like the answer was already there in the burn of his glare.

_Because I can._

   That was the answer.

   Charles felt his cheeks heat, confused yet again. He didn’t know why…why he had an _impulse_ to shape his palm to the assassins’ cheek right then, why he felt a need to…comfort him.

   And when the elevator doors opened, Charles let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. The assassin left his side to follow the thief as they went down a familiar hall…and Charles moved to catch up.

   Despite the familiarity of it, the lights had all been turned off and there was no sound at all on this floor aside from their footsteps.

   “It’s not far now,” LeBeau assured the assassin. “Y’know…I’m glad we could come to an agreement so soon, Magneto. I was a little surprised too. You’ve never been one to make deals, if I remember correctly.”

   “The rarity of such an occurrence…is not coincidental. I don’t make them often,” Magneto replied quietly. “…but when I do, I give my best effort to ensure they are honored properly.”

   “I guess we share that trait,” said LeBeau. “…I too, do my best to honor my part of the deal.”

   “I suppose we do.”

   “Through here,” LeBeau had stopped, his arm extended towards a room. It was too dark to tell which one, but he stood aside now to let Magneto take lead.

  And the assassin did, giving the thief the smallest look before passing him and entering the darkness. As Charles caught up to LeBeau, he instinctively moved to follow Magneto, but the thief’s hand caught his chest before he could take a step inside, the other hand shooting towards a panel on the wall next to the exit. Glass slid from one side of the frame in a quick and fluid motion, a loud click echoing to signal the lock.

   Lights flickered on everywhere, including the cash room that now incased the assassin. Another series of clicking noises was heard above where each and every one of LeBeau’s guards had a rifle trained towards the entrance of the room.

  LeBeau took a step away, his hands behind his back as he met the assassin’s furious look.

   “…As I said…I do my best to honor _my_ part of the deal. And for this, I will. The girl…will go free. I can assure you. But you, Magneto?…You’re not going anywhere.”


	26. Terms and Conditions

    _Silence._

   That’s what followed LeBeau’s words. You could hear a pin drop.

   The amount of anger that Charles felt simmering behind Magneto’s thoughts was so strong, he expected the outburst, the uncontrollable power to unleash. But that never came. Instead Magneto paced a line through the length of the room, his eyes darting between all of them, from LeBeau to Charles, to LeBeau’s guards above. Somehow Charles got the impression that the assassin was calculating his means to escape.

   And that was proven right when Magneto pressed a hand to the glass. Charles knew how strong it was, but he didn’t know the assassin’s strength. He couldn’t help but wince a little when he applied the slightest pressure. But the glass didn’t move, proving it could withstand even an assassin.

  But for how long?

   The assassin’s hand moved towards the inner part of his jacket, but LeBeau took a step forward.

   “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” LeBeau warned him, extending a finger towards Magneto. “This glass is mostly bulletproof but trust me, the  _type_  of ammunition my boys are packing can cut through….and I highly  **doubt** you can stop all of them at once. In fact…remove your jacket along with any other weapons you may have hidden on your person. Lay them down in front of the glass and step away.”

  The seconds ticked by, the two mutants just staring eachother down. LeBeau was practically begging Magneto to attempt an attack. And Magneto was still processing the situation, his dark eyes moving all over the place. Charles couldn’t see the men and women in the catwalks, hidden by shadow, but he knew there was many…and he had to wonder if LeBeau’s bluff could be called by someone of Magneto’s abilities.

Very slowly, the assassin took a few steps back and shrugged his shoulders, allowing one side of his cloak to drop and pool at his feet with a heavy thud. Magneto kicked the jacket towards the glass and held up his hands.

  “That’s everything.”

  Beneath the cloak he wore a nearly skin tight suit made of the same black mesh that the coat was made from, the material hugging his body. Charles could see the fine contours of his torso where muscles were fully defined. The only part of the suit that was loose was the hood that remained in place over his head.

    LeBeau cautiously opened the glass, eyes never leaving Magneto, watching for sudden movements. He slid something heavy and hard across the linoleum towards Magneto. The specialty handcuffs that Alex had brought. The assassin didn’t move as LeBeau toed the jacket into the hallway and shut the assassin back in. He took little time in kneeling down in front of the glass to start unraveling the coat. Charles was shocked at how many little sheaths and pockets the coat had…and just how many knives Magneto had been carrying. There must have been ten blades of different sizes. The most prominent was the longer, slightly jagged edge that was more of a sword than a knife.

  Just by how Magneto glared when LeBeau pulled it out last, Charles could tell this was his favored weapon and he shuddered to think how many of those ‘suicides’ were caused by this thing.

  “Definitely gonna be raisin’ a few alarms at airport security with this thing on,” said LeBeau. He took out his cellphone and clicked a single button on the screen. “Hicks. Head to the cash rooms. We got some…contraband.”

  “I’m going to need that back soon,” said Magneto stoically.

  LeBeau just smirked at him. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s all stayin’ in good hands.”

   “…I see now it was a  _mistake_ …letting you go the last time we met,” said Magneto slowly. “… I won’t make that same mistake twice.”

   “You got lucky last time,” LeBeau retorted and Charles had to look at him then. That wasn’t true by what Charles had seen and all three of them knew it. “Now if you would please…the handcuffs.”

   Magneto had the decency to remain silent as he lifted the handcuffs, holding them up for all to see before slipping them on each wrist with a loud click.

   “No metal? Smart,” said Magneto with a raise of his eyebrows.

   “What can I say? We knew what to expect.”

    “Where is the girl? Don’t lie this time.”

    LeBeau gave a moments’ hesitation before taking out VIOLET from his other pocket and having her display the vault where Anna Marie was clearly visible sitting in the middle of the room with her legs crossed all alone. Charles winced at the image. She was still locked up…and he had a promise to keep.

  Hopefully,  _LeBeau_ wasn’t bluffing about honoring his part of the bargain.

   “Unharmed. Soon to be released…just as I said. She’s just going to be released into Detective Xavier’s care.”

   At the mention of Charles, Magneto’s eyes were sharp on Charles for the briefest second and Charles resisted the temptation to break and look away.

   “Not a good idea.” He input.

   “It is what will be done. You came here to secure her release,” said LeBeau. “and we’re honoring our portion of that. She goes free. You stay.”

  Hicks appeared a few moments later to collect the heavy coat. She raised it up, eyes wide at LeBeau and then at the assassin. LeBeau nodded at her wordlessly and she turned back the way she came towards the elevator, stopping just outside of it, waiting for him.

   LeBeau applied more weight on one leg, leaning heavily to the side. “You…had to see that coming from a mile away.”

   Again, Magneto looked to Charles. He must have had his suspicions of the trap. But he did believe Charles’s ‘term’, his feigned request in asking Magneto to leave the city and leave the case.

   “I need to speak to him.  **Alone** ,” Charles stated. He looked around them at the guards that LeBeau had strategically placed above to take care of the situation in case everything went south. He was half tempted to ask LeBeau to call them off for their conversation, preferring the absolute privacy, but he knew while they were on the thief’s grounds, they had to follow his rules to some level.

   LeBeau looked like he was going to contest the idea, but he eyed Charles’s expression, then the assassin before stepping back from the glass and giving Magneto a final sneer before leaving his line of sight.

  “All yours, detective.”  

   Charles watched him leave, feeling his satisfied, gloating thoughts grow more distant as he headed to the elevator to notify Josh and Alex of the situation, leaving them alone as they ever could be.

  After so long…so so long…he almost didn’t dare believe that he was here.    

   Charles took a few tentative steps forward, nearer to the glass until he was just shy of a foot from it.

   “I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to remove the mask, save us the trouble,” said Charles quietly.

   “There’s benefits to anonymity.”

   “I suppose we’re just  _humoring_ you then,”  Charles answered. “It took a long time to find you, Magneto. But you know it’s  ** _over_**  right? There’s no way you’re leaving this place without those cuffs on, I can promise you that.”

   “Is that how you see this playing out?” Magneto asked, sounding bored and amused.

   “There is no other way this can play out,” said Charles coldly. “You’ve  _made_  it this way. And until I have my people arrive to escort you out in an patrol car, let’s talk for a few minutes, you and I.”

     “Hmm. It seems all I got now is time,” Magneto answered, starting to pace again, never tearing his gaze from Charles. “Though I doubt…any answer I can give will  _truly_ satisfy you.”

   Charles didn’t know what to make of that statement, but he had to focus. He worked to get his thoughts in order. One would think after all this time, that it would be easy to slide into an interrogation with the assassin. But it didn’t take much to remember the glaring fact that the last time they had met, the assassin was saving him, keeping him from a fate worse than death.

  And the most prominent question became  _why?_ Yet, he couldn’t get the single word out. Just looking at Magneto from across the glass, it was difficult. The assassin was looking at him too, head slightly tilted as though he was facing the same conundrum of a person and wondering what to do with them, how to speak to them.

   So Charles attempted to fit into the role he was truly supposed to be in, the detective, the one chasing the assassin. It was better that way, better than keeping it personal.

  And yet the look on the assassin’s face when the glass closed behind him flitted to the front of Charles’s mind before he could stop it. The look he was given outside when the assassin asked if he too…was tired of this chase. He believed the lie…and that more than anything was the source of his anger. He was angry at Charles, angry at LeBeau but more than anything…the loathing was to his own self.

   No, he couldn’t think of all this…couldn’t let the assassin humanize himself.

  “I’ve been chasing you for months…You know that. Every time I’ve come close…you’ve always slipped away, just out of reach.”

   Charles looked to the ground as he said it, feeling the assassin’s stare burn as it trained on him.  The assassin didn’t deny it…and there was a silence between them while Charles once again tried to compose himself.

    “I don’t have to explain to you why. All those people you killed…They had families…wives…husbands…children…mothers and fathers that mourned their losses, that  _still_  mourn now. I had to listen to them… listen as they  **begged**  me to find the person behind it all and stop him…. No matter what justification you try to pull with me now…that they deserved it…that you were just  _paid_  to do it. It’s not going to work. None of that is going to work.”

   The agent couldn’t keep his own emotions in check. So much for trying to remain impartial, for remaining detached. But it had been so long, and he worked so hard to get here, yet there was no satisfaction at seeing Magneto behind the cage like this, helpless while twenty guns pointed at him, ready for him to make the wrong move.

    Perhaps the assassin was right…and no answer he was going to be given would provide him satisfaction.

   “You were the first one I ever encountered…the first person who had gifts like myself. And this….This….isn’t right. This isn’t how I imagined it, but here we are… _Here I am_. I’m taking you to the hangman. I don’t want that. I’ve never wanted…needless death. But I don’t…I don’t have a choice. This is what I have to do.”

   There was a small thud, drawing Charles’s attention back up where he saw the assassin place his hand flat on the glass right where Charles stood, startling him.

   “…You’re in pain,” Magneto whispered.

   Charles let out a humorless smirk. “…Don’t pretend like that matters to you.”

   “It matters,” The assassin replied with quiet fervency. “More than you’ll ever know.”

   The detective just turned away again, irate that he was letting his feelings get in the way of this. He felt his eyes sting and he had to keep his gaze averted. Why show the assassin just how much of a toll this case had taken on him? But now he was considering, really considering…Thoughts suddenly went to Erik. His tone…so cold the last time they spoke. He had confessed his feelings, only to be pushed away now, and he was too  **cowardly** to ask why, to pick up the phone and call him again, pursue him as he knew he should have. Every time Erik had tried to open himself up to Charles, he had shut the door on him without thinking, feeling the regret but not  _enough_  of it to go back, to make that change that he knew he should have.

    He had prioritized the assassin first. And that was perhaps why Erik had been so cold…because he knew Charles was a hopeless case and there was no real future with him.

   Just knowing that he had sacrificed that potential of happiness…the realization hitting him so so hard…was devastating.

    “You’ve….taken  _so much_   …,” Charles was shaking now, tremors breaking through everywhere across his body. “…without even realizing it. I know…I know the kind of  **monster**  you are. I know…you killed Mitchell Tanner. I know you… _tore out his heart._ And you threw him off that building. And I can’t…I can’t read you. Not even with all my strength, I can’t. I never could. But I don’t have to read you to know that you don’t… **regret** it. Killing like that…it’s second nature for you. It’s in your blood…it’s what you know best.”

    Despite the detective’s best efforts to contain his emotions, they poured from him in torrent.

    “I know…I can’t blame you for all of it. I know it was my choice to keep going…to find you. I must have been warned a thousand times…and I ignored those warnings, a thousand times….and now…”

  . He stared fixedly at the ground, at his feet, at the assassins’ feet on the other side, his vision blurring as his eyes stung.

   “I don’t know why you saved me from that collapsing building. I don’t know. You had your opportunity to be rid of the meddlesome FBI agent. And you didn’t take it. Officer Shepard? The one LeBeau found? I’m sure that was your handiwork…You’ve had no problems in the past taking care of the law enforcement that dares try to impede on your occupation.”

   Charles looked up at him, finally. He needed this explanation…because it didn’t make sense…it didn’t match up to everything else.

   Magneto was looking at him with the same searing intensity he always did, drinking in every word that the detective had said. When he realized that Charles was done, his narrowed eyes appeared to relax an inch.

   The assassin seemed to weigh his words carefully as he spoke, voice deceptively calm. “…Your assessment is not wholly inaccurate. I have killed. Many times. I won’t deny it, because there is no… _point_ in denying it. If you think for a moment that I feel an ounce of regret for any one of them, you’re mistaken. I don’t…”

 

   It sounded like Magneto was speaking through bared teeth. “…give a  _damn_  about the people who are in mourning. People die. It’s part of life. These people… _every single one of them_ , delved into something they shouldn’t have. They had the time, plenty of time…to make what you would believe is the right choice…but that didn’t stop them from succumbing to whatever vice it was. I would be lying if I didn’t say for the most part it all came down to…greed.”

    “And for that, they pay for greed with their  _life_?” Charles retorted incredulously.

    “In chess, sometimes a pawn takes a lethal risk when it makes a move.”

  Charles growled under his breath. “…There’s a reason there’s a structure, Magneto. There’s a reason that there is a  **system**  that’s been in place for centuries to uphold  _order_ and keep the peace. People pay for their crimes, they always have, and they pay while still having a pulse.”

    “Yes, I can see how keeping a corrupted animal in a  _cage_ ,” Magneto gestured all around him for emphasis. “alongside like-minded individuals is a  _much_  better solution. You should be thanking me. I’m making your job much easier.”

    “No,” Charles snapped. “You’re becoming a much bigger problem than you  _ever_ should have been.”

    Magneto laughed coldly. “…Human beings are the  **worst**  of the universe, Agent Xavier. You know this better than anyone. Not _just_  because you have access to every  **senseless**  mind on the planet, but because you put the worst of the worst into these cages. How many mob bosses have you had the satisfaction of putting away? How did it  _feel_ when that satisfaction was robbed when a highly paid attorney put them back on the street to commit the same damn crime? And this time, the cops turn their cheek, because now they’re on the  **fucking**  payroll too.”

  Charles slammed his fist against the glass, succeeding in making it rattle. “THAT STILL DOESN’T JUSTIFY YOU PLAYING JUDGE, JURY AND EXECUTIONER! NOTHING GIVES YOU THAT RIGHT!”

  “No. Nothing does,” Magneto snarled. “…I just  _take_ it.”

  Charles backed away from the glass as if suddenly realizing how close he had gotten to it. His heart was hammering in his chest, head pounding with a new kind of pain. He was so angry…so so angry. His fists clenched and unclenched, nails digging into his palms until he was sure he was going to draw blood.

  And Magneto looked the same, his breathing harsh. The laugh that escaped his lips was another bitter one.

  “You think…so low of me. Like I’ve disappointed you somehow. Yet look at you. There is only one traitor standing among us and there is no bigger than you. All your gifts, your brilliance, your  **advantages**  over these…people…and instead of choosing to use these gifts to better the world for your own kind, you choose to help them.  _Them._ You know what they’d do to you if they knew what you could do? They’d  _tear you apart_ to attain your power against your will. They don’t want your compliance, your help. They want your power. They’d strip your brain tissue out piece by piece to see if they can use it for themselves, further their own agenda.” 

    “…You have such high regard for the lives of others, for the lives of criminals. And NO regard at all for your own.” Magneto leaned closer, making sure Charles caught every word. “…and no regard for the people that care for you. The ones trying with  _everything they have_  to protect you.”

   Charles answered in a heated voice. “My partner knows the situation  **just** as well as I do. He knows the risks we have to take.”

  The assassin gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “…I’m not talking about him.”

  “Then who —?”

  Before the assassin could answer, he heard Hicks to his left.

  “Detective. The boss wants to speak to you,” Hicks told him.

  Charles felt the dismissal already on his tongue, but looking up, the assassin had already taken a few steps back as if releasing Charles from a spell. His back was now turned, arms crossed once more. He could feel everything close up, even the little that Charles could feel from his emotions had cut him off. The detective wasn’t going to get any more answers from him tonight.

  “I’ll be right there,” He announced to Hicks, finally tearing himself fully from the assassin so he could follow her. A part of him felt a little apprehensive about leaving the assassin under the watchful eye of the guards LeBeau had placed in the catwalks. He wasn’t sure of what their orders were. One wrong move and Magneto would probably be shot, but he counted on some faith that they hadn’t gotten hostile so far…and neither had Magneto.  

   But he wouldn’t get very far with the assassin if he couldn’t read him. All the truths he was seeking were buried deep in that mind…and he needed to find a way to get through. One way or another.

   By the time he got close to LeBeau’s security room, he could already hear the thief talking in a loud voice.

   “…and that was all with just a screwdriver.”

   “You’re lying,” Alex was saying.

    “I am absolutely not lying. Joshy, tell ‘em,”

    “Even if you’re telling the truth about the screwdriver, the rest of that story is so far fetched…that I’m pretty sure at least eighty percent of it is false.”

   “Hey at least he gave you that twenty percent of truth,” Josh pointed out.

    Charles pushed open the door, letting himself in. Josh, Alex and LeBeau were crowded around a table where all of the assassins’ belongings were laid out. Even with how heavy the coat looked and the little Charles had seen; he didn’t realize just how much heat the assassin was packing. There were several custom made pockets and slits for blades of all sizes. How the assassin could even move under all that weight was incredible.

  Really, the way that LeBeau had laid it all out, it looked like he was a salesman selling these.

   “I hope you haven’t gotten fingerprints on all of these,” said Charles with a pointed look at LeBeau.

   “Come now, Detective. What do you take me for?”

   “A thief,” said Charles and Alex at the same time.

    “You all are boring,”

    Charles ignored him, steadily approaching the table so he could survey each weapon. Like the material of his uniform, all of these were made especially for the assassin. Charles shuddered to think how many each of these had hurt or killed.

   He was disgusted, no doubt, yet there was also some part of him that was morbidly curious, the temptation to touch, pick up and try to get a mindset on the assassin was prevalent.

   “Charles…? Charles, are you listening?” Alex’s voice came back full force.

   “Huh? No…Sorry. What did you say?”

    “I asked if you had any luck with the guy. LeBeau’s cameras don’t have sound, unfortunately…but it looks like things got pretty heated in there.”

   That was an understatement.

    “Someone who can’t be read like he can’t…they take advantage of that,”

    “Well, he won’t be our problem soon enough. I already notified Captain Alvarez. He said if the cell is secure, we’re under jurisdiction to keep him here as a suspect for the night unless you want us to take him to the station,” said Alex, leaning back in his chair, hands interlocking behind his neck; the perfect posture of relaxation.  “And personally…I think we can rest easy for a few hours. This is a win I wanna sleep on.”

  Charles envied his view. He was by no means at ease with the assassin close by.  His body was still tensed as he sat down across from Alex, his head in his hands.

   “Why are you so stressed out, Detective? From the look of things, Magneto ain’t holding his tongue about a confession. Seems like it’ll be pretty easy to get one,” said LeBeau bracingly.

   Alex reached out and gripped Charles’s elbow, speaking low. “I know you’re worried because you can’t read him…but come on man. We’re this close to case closed.”

   For emphasis, Alex held up his thumb and finger, showing the small distance between both.

   “I don’t know about you, but I plan on taking a vacation after this,” Alex went on, leaning back again. “You’re still on with Erik, right?”

   Charles glanced towards LeBeau, expecting judgment or surprise, but the other thief was just watching Josh with an unchanged, bored look.

   “I don’t know,” said Charles. “It felt so set in stone a few days ago…but now I’m not sure.”

   “Why?”

   “I don’t know,” said Charles, sitting down across from his partner, elbows on his knees as he remembered his boyfriends’ tone on the phone. The conversation with the assassin came back to mind, on how he was focusing on what he lost. Had he really lost Erik before he even tried to get him back?

   Or maybe he was reading too much into it…and the man was simply in a bad mood.

   “He seems to be upset with me. But I don’t know what I did. Until I stop getting the feeling that he’s keeping things from me…I don’t think we can progress anywhere, much less take a trip somewhere together,” It wasn’t just a feeling. It was a fact, but he couldn’t just outright say that without a bite of anger and frustration in his tone.

    “Sounds like a him problem, not a  _you_  problem,” LeBeau commented, sliding his lazy gaze over to Charles meaningfully.

   “This sounds like him and me conversation,” Alex replied, gesturing between Charles and himself.

   “Hey. Nothing else is happening,” LeBeau shrugged. “I take that as an invitation to meddle in affairs I’m not apart of.”

   “That’s a really bad instinct you have,” said Alex.

   “You surprise me, Detective,” LeBeau ignored him, giving Charles an amused look. “I thought it was…assassin case in and assassin case out. You _actually_ have a life outside of this?”

   Charles shot him a cold look. “Yes.”

   “Barely,” said Alex at the same time and Charles turned his glare on him. “What, man? It’s true.”

   “I think this conversation is over.” Charles retorted.

   “ Well, perhaps you –” LeBeau cut off when his phone started vibrating, playing an obnoxious tune. He took it out, and one look at the name on the front had his eyes widening in shock. “Oh…fuck.”

   “What? What..? Remy, what is it?” Josh prompted.

   “Damn…I knew they’d catch on,” said LeBeau under his breath. He stood up, pressing the green slide to take the call and pressing it to his ear before Josh could question him further.

   LeBeau’s greeting was short. “ This is a bad time.”

   “Is it?” was the curt reply on the other end. “Put the phone on speaker, Remy.”

   LeBeau took a glance at everyone in the room, before turning back on all of them, voice slightly muffled as he lowered it. “Like I said…this is a bad time. I’ll call you back la—”

   “On speaker. Now.”

   LeBeau let out a soft growl under his breath before turning around and setting the phone on the clearest part of the table. He hesitated for a minute, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Charles tried to get a read on him, but his thoughts were too frantic to piece together. Various parts of the casino came to mind, dark passages and tunnels leading underground.

    The screen showed no name for the number calling, LeBeau probably not bothering to input said person into their contact list, despite the obvious familiarity. He expelled a sharp breath before harshly pressing a button on the phone.

   The voice that came out was an older woman’s voice, echoing with deep authority.

   “Been busy this evening, have you, Remy?”

    “No more than usual, dear Alexandra,” said LeBeau coolly.

    “Who’s Alexan—?” Alex began to mouth, but LeBeau shook his head at him, holding up a finger.

    “Really. Is that why you closed your casino for the night?”

    “It was a necessity, believe me,” said LeBeau. “You’ll get your payment just as you normally would. No cause for concern.”

   There was a beat of silence as she seemed to process this.

    “…Unfortunately, I  _am_ concerned. Concerned especially by your recent alliances in the past few days. Strange days when the Thieves Guild decides to ally with the FBI to eliminate an enemy.”

   LeBeau fell silent, eyes on Josh. Their communication was silent but simultaneously both of them went into a similar, tense lines of thought that Charles managed to pick up on through Josh’s internal swearing.

    _Fuck. She bugged us the last time she came through. I should have known. I had my suspicions. Routine inspection? Fuckin’ a. She’s seen everything…heard everything…fuck._

  “…I don’t know what you mean, Alexandra. I just wanted to take a night in.” LeBeau was saying with forced calm.

   “Don’t play dumb, Remy. I know you have him. You have the opportunity to reverse your erroneous ways. Release him to us and the rewards you reap will be worth your while.”

  LeBeau paused for a long moment. “…So you can kill him? Not in the cards, Alexandra. The FBI has better plans. Kill your boy in the jail cell. Same ending, either way.”

   “Now, Remy. This is your only chance. I’d hate to have our arrangement come to an end so…violently. You know this. I’d  _hate_ to have to bring down the sky where you stand.”

   LeBeau’s face paled, his teeth grinding together. But he said nothing…and the silence stretched between them.

   “You know my meaning.”

    “…I do.”

    “One hour. If you stand in our way…the outcome will  _not_  be in your favor. Remember that.” 

  The call disconnected and as soon as it did, LeBeau was on his feet and out the door. Alex, Josh and Charles scrambled to follow him. Josh pushed aside the two agents with forced gentility so he could match LeBeau’s stride.

   “Was that — ?”

   “Yes,” said LeBeau shortly.

    “A little help here?” Charles prompted. “Who was that?”

    Both of them ignored him.

    “Remy. She said bring down the sky, does that mean — ?”

    “ _Yes_ ,” said LeBeau in a terse voice.

    “One hour…that’s not a lot of time, Remy. Maybe we should ask — ?”

    “Don’t even suggest that.”

    “Hello?” Charles asked louder, reaching out to grab LeBeau’s arm. “What the hell is going on?”

   LeBeau turned on his heel exasperatedly, casting Charles and Alex both an irate look.

   “The Hand. That was the Hand. One of their more…forceful representatives. I had hoped to keep them out of this, slide the assassin over to you…but plans change. We….” LeBeau glanced at Josh. “…We can’t let you have him. Sorry, Agent Xavier.”

   And with that, LeBeau and Josh slipped into the elevator. Alex was quick to catch it before the doors fully closed so that the other two clambered inside.

   “What do you mean, you can’t  _let_  us have him?” Alex snarled.

    “This is the only bargaining chip we have now,”

     “Bargaining chip for what?” Charles asked as the elevator doors opened and LeBeau was back to his half sprint as he exited.

    LeBeau stopped abruptly, nearly having Charles run into him. “…For something much bigger than the two of us. You don’t cross the Hand. And he has. More than enough times. Trust me, Agent…this is the best case scenario we could hope for”

   “I don’t care,” said Charles, stepping up to the other man. “We’re not giving him up to them. He’s under our jurisdiction…and he’s going to the station.”

   LeBeau just regarded him disdainfully. “These are not people you want to get on the bad side of, Detective. No bullshit. They will kill all of us _without hesitation_ to get to him, and they’re bringing the right artillery for that.”

   “What does that mean?”

   LeBeau just shook his head and kept walking and everyone had to struggle to catch up. Charles looked to Josh for some answers, but the other thief was just as stoic as his leader was, face set into grim lines.

   Magneto was motionless against the opposite wall, his head bowed as though he was in deep concentration. He seemed hardly moved when they made their presence clear in front of him.

    He scowled at LeBeau standing right where Charles had been in the middle, the closest to the pane. “Can you bring the last person forward? He was a much more pleasant sight.”

   “Plans have changed for you, Magneto. You’re not going with the agent. We have a new party that’s taken an interest in you. We’ll be turning you and the girl over to their care…very…,” LeBeau paused to glance at his phone screen “…soon.”

   “That’s not…This is insane,” Charles held up a restraining hand, glancing between the two mutants. He picked Magneto to speak to first. “That’s not what we’re doing. LeBeau, let’s stop for a moment and think this thr—”

   “THERE IS NO TIME!” LeBeau’s rose several octaves in a rush and Charles was thrown by the amount of  _panic_ in his tone.

    The thief stepped closer to the glass. “As I said…he’s the  _only_ bargaining chip we have. The Hand want him…they can  _have_ him. You want to live through the night, Agent? Pretty sure you can take the slap on the wrist for losin’ him better than a bullet to the head.”

   “That’s not –”  Charles broke off at the flurry of  dark movement as the assassin brought his face close to the glass, level to LeBeau, keeping the two of them eye to eye as he trapped him in his fiery gaze.

   “Look at him…” Magneto whispered, staring at LeBeau with acute fascination. “I have _never_ encountered someone  _so_ deliberately  **weakhearted**  in my entire life.”

    “Weakhearted,” LeBeau snarled through his teeth, his fright quickly melting into rage. “Is it so weak to let a murderer  **die**  because they deserve it? How many people you’ve killed…and enjoyed? This is a mercy.”

    “It’s weak…because  _you_ are weak. You’re still the same naive street brat you always were. You remember what happened the first night we met, boy? I handed you your card and told you where to aim,” Magneto lifted his cuffed hand to hover over his chest. “I told you how to use your gift to defend yourself and tear through any opposition and you  **spat**  in my face.”

    “I’m not a weapon like you. None of us are weapons or  **meant** to be weapons, you swine.”

     “No. You are a **coward**. Hiding behind the weapons of the Hand. Will it make you sleep better, boy? That they killed me themselves…rather than you taking the opportunity you have  _here and now_. Will it **absolve** you of any guilty conscience? Allow you to  _dance_  that fine line…between what you believe…is good and evil. You’ve always had that  ** _misconceived_** …black and white perception.”

   “Don’t listen to him, LeBeau…He’s just trying to rile you up,” Charles warned, keeping a steady hand extended towards LeBeau in caution.

    “No, Agent Xavier.  _You_  listen,” Magneto commanded, not looking away from the thief. “Tune out the outer voice, and listen to the inner one. Hear his thoughts, see his mind. He’s already mapped out his escape route with his partner. There was never a scenario where you were meant to survive this. He’s already counting you and your partner among the casualties.”

   Charles froze, his hand dropping as he regarded LeBeau with shock and hurt. The truth was already reflecting back at him as he focused on LeBeau, the earlier thoughts of unfamiliar passages coming back to mind. “Is this true? You were going to leave us to die?”

  Magneto sneered. “ _Are you surprised?_  I told you…the boy has  _no_  loyalty besides to his own bank account. Stop trying to appeal to his humanity, he doesn’t have any. Neither do I, but at least I’m _honest_ about it. Even if the Hand turn on him, take away a  **promised reward** , he has a way out of here. And believe me…there is  _no_  intention for any loose ends like yourselves to survive.”

  “YOU SHUT THE HELL UP.” LeBeau roared, fist slamming onto the glass, but Magneto didn’t flinch. “ You have no power here. You’re the one in the cell. So you move on the board wherever the hell I want you to move.”

   “No power?” Magneto scoffed, leaning off the glass so he could take a few steps back.

   “Are you…,” The assassin lifted both hands in front of himself, fingers curled into fists. His eyes closed and Charles…Charles could  _feel_ it…could feel the thrum of power in the air. Like everything had stilled and tensed under his will.

  And then the very walls began to vibrate, that atrocious power growing in tremors, seeping through every atom like it was a black virus aiming to infect everything in its path.

   “… _sure about that?_ ”

   Instinctively, Charles moved towards Josh and Alex, gripping his partner’s arm and the other thief’s shoulder as if he could move them under him somehow.

    “We need to move. Right n—”

   But it was too late and Charles felt the earth quake beneath his feet violently, metallic pipes in the wall groaning with the strain of being dented from the force of his magnetic pull. But the aim was not there, he could feel it when it happened, but he was too late to cry out a warning as the metallic strip holding all of LeBeau’s guards was upturned, the metal railing dropped with a loud clang that narrowly missed all of them from its fall. All of them plummeted with a sickening crunch and Charles felt the rise of panic when he opened his eyes in the next few blinks, fearing the worst. He had no time to assess any casualties before

   The rush of adrenaline and instinct kicked in as the armed assailants stood, and the few who made it to their feet first wasted no time in raising their weapons to fire. Charles felt an arm around his body as he was hurtled towards the ground on his side, Alex shielding his body.

   “NO!” Charles managed to shout as the barrage of automatic fire pierced through the glass, shattering it, each bullet carefully aimed for the assassin uncaring of any other body in the way.

   He never heard the body thud as from the attack. The detectives’ eyes opened, taking in the scene of Alex, LeBeau and Josh in similarly collapsed positions, unharmed. The guards were standing still, weapons drawn but shaken from head to toe as they looked past where Charles was situated to the would-be victim of their spur of bravery.

   Beyond the glass, the bullets never made full contact. The assassin’s hands were extended, arms apart as much as the special handcuffs would allow, fingers wide as the bullets hovered in mid air just short of his body.

   Magneto was slow as he walked forward, hand dropping and the suspended bullets falling with the movement, clattering uselessly to the ground.

   Power…He had it.  _He always had it._  He walked into that cell…let the doors close on him, put on the handcuffs…and it was all because he  _could_. There was always the capability of escape. And Charles had let himself  _walk away_  where he could have performed such an act so much sooner. How could Charles delude himself like this? There was only one person here who held all the cards...and he held them before he walked into the casino tonight.

   It was only a man so in control of the situation that could walk with such infuriating arrogance like this.

  “Agent Xavier…Agent Summers…I have a counter proposal to the one offered. One that entails your survival as well as my own. I daresay, it’s quite a lot better than the one offered by your thieving friends.”

   Charles was breathing hard as Alex eased off him, eyes only on Magneto as the assassin passed them. His movement was subtle…eased as he idly looked at his gloved hand.

   “Yeah?” Charles panted as he glowered up at him. “And what would that be?”

   Magneto crouched in front him, face suddenly close to Charles’s from above, the intensity he seemed to reserve only for him was back in full force, no hint of amusement or deception in the brush of his mental state.

   “I will take care of this problem…in the way I know because I have brought it upon you. In exchange, I want you to drop your investigation. Permanently.”

   Charles growled. “…You’ll kill us all if I deny it. What choice do I have?”

   “I have had a hundred thousand opportunities to kill you, Agent Xavier. Believe that. If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

   “We are not working with a murderer,” Alex snarled, getting to his feet and wrenching his pistol away from its holster, pointing it directly at Magneto’s head. The hammer was clicked back threateningly.

   Magneto gave a small swipe of his hand without looking away from Charles, the gun in Alex’s hand went flying all the way to the other end of the hall near the elevator. A shot echoed as the bullet left the chamber, denting the floor where it hit.

   “Did I mention that this proposal is non-negotiable?” Magneto asked with feigned curiosity.

   “You want me to drop my investigation…while asking for my permission to kill…all of them.”

   “It’s like you said. It’s what I do best. It’s what I know,” Magneto leaned even further down, until the detective and the assassin were inches apart. “I’m not giving you a choice, Detective. I respect your dedication…and I respect the dream you’re trying to achieve even though I know it’s an impossibility. I don’t give my respect very easily. I might even be starting to like you.”

   Following this, Magneto reached up to cup Charles’s cheek which the detective instinctively recoiled from.

    “I will protect you…and those around you…with everything I have,” Magneto nodded to where LeBeau and Josh were. “I give my word…even if such protections are **undeserved** by some.”

   “Fuck you,” LeBeau spat.

   Charles registered the thief’s words, but most of his focus was on the assassin. Still no deceit coating his words, no hidden amusement, but even a liar could get away with lying on the spot if they truly believed what they were spewing at the time.

  “I will…trust you…to get us out of this. I know the Hand…is sending something big,” Charles glanced over at LeBeau. “It’s got them scared…and I’m sure you know whatever it is.”

  Magneto gave a curt nod. “I do.”

  “I can’t…truly promise you an end to the investigation. If you uphold your end of our original contract…before you got put in the cell…and leave this city, then I promise…”

   Charles exhaled sharply. He couldn’t believe he was about to say this.

   “…I promise not to pursue you.”

   Magneto looked back at him unwaveringly. “…Then we have a deal.”

   “No… I know your skillset and now I’ve seen your power. I know how you can use it. Promise me you won’t kill anyone tonight. All this power…don’t think I don’t know that you can subdue rather than kill.”

  “There is _literally_ no fun in that.”

  Charles just gave him a steely look.

   “Fine. Subdue. Knock out. I understand.”

   “And…”

   “And?”

    “And…,” It was Charles’s turn to lean in. “…The truth. I want the truth. I feel lies…and deceit pressing in all around me. I’m sick of being in the dark. I just want one person to be straight with me.”

    Magneto’s eyes took on a peculiar shine, twitching slightly. He looked away from Charles.

  And he heard the slightest quaver in his tone, the perfect mask fracturing. “Yes.…You deserve that.”

  “Then we have a deal.” Charles answered, holding out his hand. The assassin eyed it between them…So easy…so easy in this moment to forget every single eye on them, watching their every move.

  And then his gloved hand was in Charles’s, grip strong as they shook.

   “Uncuff me and show me where Anna Marie is. We're short on time.” 


End file.
